A Stark Contrast
by Terrence Shepard
Summary: They came with only one goal: learn to kill. The two people they were paired up with? Tools to help them along with said goal. Neither Raven nor Qrow planned on making friends. Neither planned on seeing their new teammates as anything but. However, no plan survives first contact with the enemy, does it?
1. Prologue - Kill or Be Killed

**A/N: Well, after the emotional train-wreck that was the end of Scattered Petals, I thought, "Hey, why not try writing something a little happier. Maybe another story along the lines of Solar-Powered Girl, but with less smut. Because it was _super_ fucking awkward asking my wife to proofread my story about two teenagers fucking the shit out of each other."**

**But then the depressing, asshole, angsty teen side of the dumpster-fire that is my mind said, "No, go darker. Take your favorite characters and have them all slit their wrists or something. And then make Salem do really weird - and possibly illegal - things with their skin and/or orifices."**

**So those two decided to have a really creepy, Quasimodo-lookin'-ass baby. And this is it.**

**TL;DR of it is that I had idea. Idea happy and sad at same time. Idea look like this.**

**P.S. - If you don't know who Quasimodo is, go read a fucking book, you uncultured swine!**

* * *

**Prologue** **\- _Kill or Be Killed_**

* * *

There were many advantages to living in tents. They were light, provided shielding from wind and rain, and were easily replaceable. The ideal abode for a nomadic tribe. When it came time to pack up and move, a tent could be rolled up and stored in just a few minutes. If made out of the correct material, they could also be an excellent source of insulated heat in even the harshest of Mistralian winters.

All that being said, there were also quite a few downsides as well. If not set up properly, they would be ripped to shreds or lifted off the ground when a bad thunderstorm rolled through. They weren't much use in holding back the Grimm either. A Beowolf that had caught a scent would tear through even the sturdiest of tents like wet tissue paper.

Then there were the non-life-threatening issues. For one, any and all semblance of privacy was dashed with the severe lack of walls. It made life in the camp awkward if everyone could hear when some hunter came home after a long day and wanted nothing more than plow his woman until the sun came up. It went both ways, too. You could forget trying to get a good eight hours sleep in during the day if you worked guard duty at night.

That was the position that Rook Branwen found himself in. His hands, calloused from years of combat and hard labor, clenched into fists, gripping his short-cut raven hair. He might not have been trying to rest, but the constant clamor and chaos that filled the Branwen Tribe's camp at all hours made it impossible to focus on planning raids and movements that would both benefit and keep the tribe safe.

Currently, the noise was probably to be attributed to the raiding party his brother Corvus had led out returning. No doubt they were making such an ungodly racket while hauling in the loot from the medical caravan they'd been sent to hit. Likely it was that they were divvying it all up amongst the camp, giving first-aid supplies to those who needed them the most. It was for that reason alone that Rook deigned not to go out and beat some sense into the lot of them.

"Another successful job," he sighed, smiling.

The spoils from this job would allow them to treat the wounded more efficiently, and in a way, stop them from having to raid so many merchants for supplies. Rook wasn't cruel, he knew that there were probably people out there that would benefit from the things that they took. It did weigh heavy on his conscience knowing that some poor soul would most likely perish as a result of his actions. Deep down, though he was loath to admit it, he wasn't a bad man.

But he was also a man charged with looking out for an entire tribe's worth of men, women, and children. A few of those being his own flesh and blood. The tribe comes first, it was the lesson his father had engrained into the minds of Rook and his brother. If a few farm boys had to bury their mothers after their death by the common cold, it would be unfortunate. But if just _one_ Branwen child was spared that tragedy as a result, it would make it all worth it.

Most 'normal people' would have called him a monster, ruthless, or other, less friendly monikers. The same people that hid behind the walls of their cities and paid others to their work for them. In other words, weaklings. He preferred to imagine that it was _them_ that he was stealing from. However, the reality was often times far crueler than that, and every now and again, some grief-stricken, emaciated man or woman would turn up at the gates to the camp.

They would always say the same thing, _"The Branwen Tribe robbed the caravan that was delivering my wife's medicine,"_ or something to that effect.

To say the least, it was disheartening to see that he was taking from people that were just like him. People trying to simply make the best of what they had while living on the frontier.

In any case, now was not the time to dwell on such sad matters. He should have been glad to hear Corvus return victorious. That night there would be a party to celebrate the occasion and give the raiders some much-needed rest. Any minute now, his brother would burst into his tent with a story of the successful raid. They would embrace and sit down to enjoy a strong celebratory toast of the aged Atlesian brandy that their father had left them after his death.

Only... Corvus didn't come.

In fact, there were cries of joy and congratulations coming from outside. The only sounds he could hear were weeping and shouted orders.

Rook's eyes went wide. "No..."

He rushed out of his tent, overturning both his chair and desk in the process. Throwing back the tent flap, he held one hand up to shield his eyes from the sun's sudden intensity. When they adjusted to the light, he saw them. Nearly every occupant of the camp was crowded around the medical tent. Some of them were the wives or girlfriends of the raiding party, hunched over or on their knees, crying, others were curious onlookers trying to figure out what all the commotion was.

His gazed darted from left to right, desperately scanning the mob for any sign of Corvus, but finding none. That was bad, that was very bad. If Corvus wasn't in the crowd, then he must have been the object of their obsession. That, or was...No he couldn't have been killed. He was the one of strongest the Branwen bloodline had to offer, second only to Rook himself.

"No..."

Abandoning any sense of stoicism, the Branwen leader leaped into a full-on sprint to the medical tent. Upon reaching the edge of the ever-growing horde of grieving family members, he began shoving people out of the way. Over the sea of heads and shoulders, he could see that inside there were several men - the raiders most likely - surrounding the operating table. As he got closer, Rook saw that there were four of them, the camp doctor included. Judging by the way that they were stood, they were aiding the doctor by holding another thrashing figure down while he worked in him.

None of the upright ones were Corvus, he was certain. None sported his long, matted, black hair and iconic feathered bandana. Although they all bore injuries, the one on the table must have had the worst of the lot. From where he was now, barely five feet from the entrance, but still blocked by a good twenty people, he could make out at least six arrows lodged into the writhing man's shoulders and lower back. Had his aura stopped none of them? The wounds were pouring blood, flowing all over his exposed back and pooling on the table around him. However, Rook still couldn't identify who he was. The position at which he was laid and tribals in the way prevented him from seeing anything past his shoulders.

"No, by the gods, please, no!"

But as he drew closer and closer, a pit began to form in his stomach. Details of the man's form revealed themselves one by one. The whiplash scars crisscrossing his back. The Nevermore feathers tattooed down his left arm. The curly mop of charcoal hair that hung over his face. There was no doubt in his mind, this was his brother. This was Corvus Branwen.

* * *

Across the entire camp, Rook's anger was felt. It had been a week since the failed raid. Corvus had survived the removal of the arrows, but an infection had taken hold of him not long after. An infection that, ironically, could have been prevented with the very same medical supplies that he had been injured while attempting to steal.

A huntsman. One _fucking_ huntsman had been enough to hold off a raiding party consisting of _twelve_ of the Branwen Tribe's finest warriors. The severity of the gap in skill made Rook want to kill something. To rip it apart with his bare hands, feel its blood pour over his flesh, and watch it die. But now was not the time for mindless rage.

He needed to focus. To come up with a plan to keep his people calm and put together a new group of fighters to replace the old one. Of the twelve that went out, only four returned - Corvus included, and they had all suffer major injuries. In fact, after the adrenaline had worn off, only one of them could even bear to stand up.

Rook sat alone at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Every day for the past seven, he'd been racking his brain to figure out a solution to the tribe's sudden, desperate, lack of warriors. Things were bad, very bad. The people he kept on guard duty were there because they were strong, but they weren't as strong as those that had been his raiders. If the strongest of their ranks had been cut down like warm butter, how could weaker ones hope to pose a threat the next time they came across a huntsman or two?

"What we need is a group of trained, huntsman killers," he spoke as though to make his idea known to some specter that occupied his tent, as he was the only one currently in it. "Trained... huntsman... killers..." he repeated.

With a start, his eyes, red both naturally and bloodshot due to lack of sleep snapped to the map of Mistral on his desk. More specifically, to the dot that indicated the City of Mistral, and the object of his thought at its center.

Haven Academy.

It could work. He realized that he didn't need huntsman killers, he needed killers that were huntsmen. If he could send one or two of the younger tribals to one of the academies, they could learn all the tricks and techniques of the trade. Then, after completing their training, they would come back and aid in teaching the rest of the tribe what they'd learned. The best way to beat an enemy was to use their own strength against them, after all.

But who could he send? Who among them would not only be strong enough to handle the no-doubt brutal regimen but also be willing to leave the tribe behind at such a chaotic time?

His train of thought was derailed by a sudden rap on his tent's door post. Damn it all, he'd been onto something. "Enter," he growled.

The camp doctor, and the man responsible for saving Corvus's life, Bone, meekly pulled back the leather flap. Due to the flickering of the candlelight, shadows played across his face, making his grim expression appear even more so. "I do hope I'm not intruding, sir."

"Not at all. You've simply interrupted one in a long line of useless and unfeasible ideas," Rook waived his hand dismissively. "What news can you give me of Corvus's recovery?"

The frail man didn't meet his gaze, likely out of fear, possibly out of guilt. "Th-that is just it, sir," he stuttered and began wringing his hands nervously. "There hasn't been one. Your brother has been exceptionally resilient, but I fear that he's reached the end of the line."

Rook's eyes hardened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I simply don't have the supplies that could save him. The things that I would need, as I'm sure you are aware, are the ones he was injured while trying to acquire."

There was a pregnant pause and clap of thunder as both men awaited the inevitable words to be uttered. Neither of them wanted to, but one would have to say it before anything could be done.

The doctor broke the silence, finally as the pitter-patter of rain on the tent started. "I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do... Corvus is dying."

He'd been expecting such news for days now. No one recovered from such a devastating injury without any sort of medicine. Not even someone of Branwen stock. But they still hit him like a freight train, sucking all the air out of his lungs and clouding his vision. This was it. Rook, his niece, and his nephew would be the last of the Branwen bloodline once his brother was gone. Was he ready for that? To be the last of a dying breed?

_Keep calm,_ his mind was such a mess of convoluted thoughts and images that he was barely able to hear himself think. _Don't show any weakness. The tribe needs a strong leader right now. _Nodding, he put on his most stone-like expression. No sense in getting worked up and looking like a fool incapable of leading. There would be a time for grief later, in private.

"How long do suppose he has?"

"It is difficult to say. But I don't expect that he will last the day."

"Then I would prefer that he be in the company of his family in his final hours," the two men began the slow, arduous walk to Corvus's tent, where he lay. "Have his children been told?"

Bone hummed, "I sent someone to fetch them. They will meet us there."

Rook tried his best to remain cool and collected as he felt the eyes of his people all lock on him as he passed. How pathetic he felt at that they all looked to him for guidance in such a dark time, despite the fact that he was barely able to form a rational thought himself. Their path took them directly through the center of the camp, where a large bonfire usually raged and men and women would gather at all times of the day and night to eat, drink, and socialize. But there was no fire, no hearty meal being served, and no smiles were shared between those that huddled under canopies from the rain.

The looks on their faces all asked Rook the same questions. What will we do now? How could this have happened? How could _you _let this happen?

He only wished he could provide answers to them all. But, in actuality, he was begging the same questions of himself, with little in the way of clarity coming of it.

Upon arriving at the canvass abode which his brother called home, and now contained his deathbed, the doctor pulled back the entry flap for him to step inside. Qrow and Raven were already there, waiting for him.

"I will... give the four of you some privacy," he said, his voice filled with regret.

"Thank you, Bone. For everything you've done for him."

The smaller man did not meet his gaze. "I wish that I could have done more." They all did. And as much as he wanted to, if only to shift some of the blame off himself, Rook could not fault Bone for giving his best effort with all that he had available to him.

The interior of the tent was mostly barren, as Corvus liked to live more or less out of his pack and never kept many belongings. But what little he did have had been removed to give Bone more room to work without hindrance. In fact, the only things that remained were a small side table with a lantern atop it for light, and Corvus himself, lying drenched in sweat in a feverish sleep on his cot. It just went to make the entire scene ever the more depressing.

Qrow kneeled at his father's side, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other hiding his own eyes. On any other occasion, he would have told the boy to get ahold of himself and toughen up, or some bullshit in the same vein. But now, now Rook would be lucky if he didn't break down and join him in weeping.

The far more stoic of the twins, Raven stood with her arms folded beneath her breasts, a hard and seemingly uncaring mask on her face. Barely a few months into her seventeenth year, she was already much more mature and held a firmer grasp on her emotions than many of the adults in the tribe. However, not even she could hide the twinge of sorrow in her crimson eyes. She looked down from her father to her brother mix gaze of remorse and contempt. She despised when Qrow acted as he was. It was as though she was embarrassed to have shared the same womb as he. And she made no attempts to hide such feelings either. Both now and when they were but children playing in the mud, Raven criticized him whenever he showed even the slightest hint of a tear.

As she was the closest to reach, Rook came behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. Though it may have looked it, the action was more for his own benefit than to console her. She didn't need it, but he wished to feel the touch of a loved one.

Normally more paranoid, Raven would have flinched at his sudden presence, but he must have made enough of a noise entering the tent that she didn't feel the need to recoil from him. "Uncle," she acknowledged him without even looking, her gaze still transfixed on Corvus's ever hollowing face.

"Raven... I-"

"Don't," her head snapped toward him. There was a different emotion in those cold eyes now, boredom. Or perhaps apathy? Either way, the heartache Rook had seen just seconds ago had vanished. "Don't say you're sorry. This isn't your fault, it's _his._" She jabbed a finger at the dying man. "He wasn't strong enough to fight back. He doesn't deserve your pity, or anyone else's. Corvus got _himself_ killed."

Anger spiked in Rook's mind. How dare she speak of her father, _his brother_, in such disrespectful a manner? This was a man who had been his only true friend and ally throughout his life. They had fought and bled together. Corvus had been right alongside him as they raised the Branwen Tribe from nothing but a band of refugees leftover from the Great War led by their father, to force that struck fear into the hearts and minds of travelers all across Anima. What right did she have to dismiss him so?

He opened his mouth, but perhaps the Brothers Grimm saw fit to interrupt before he tore a rift between his only niece, because Qrow spoke up just in time. "How can you be so cold? He's our dad." Contrary to what his figure had suggested, the boy's voice was calm and even, apparently, no tears had been shed after all.

"No. He's a dead man," she turned on her heel and made to exit the tent. She gave one final glance over her shoulder at her father. "And I refuse to be called kin to a weakling that can't defend himself. You should keep that in mind."

Pushing himself to his feet, Qrow stood and locked eyes with Rook. "It's like she doesn't even care."

His feelings of malice towards the girl quickly dissipating, Rook sighed. "She does care. Despite what she would have you believe."

"Yeah? Well, she's sure got a funny fuckin' way of showing it."

That she did. It had been brief and very easy to miss, but at that moment when she's looked back, Rook had seen the slightest bit of hurt flash across Raven's face. Her anger wasn't directed at Corvus as she'd led on. Instead, she was broken up by the fact that there was someone stronger and capable of beating him. And, in doing so, they had proved that she wasn't strong enough to save him. The words of dishonor she had spoken were indeed just that, but they were more directed towards herself, most likely.

Apparently deciding to push his sister's callousness to the back of his mind, Qrow turned back to face Corvus, once again dropping to one knee. "Why did this have to happen to us? Why not some of those stuck-up assholes in the city that call us savages? Why did he have to hit the _one_ caravan on all of Anima that wised up and hired a huntsman in our territory? Do we not have it bad enough, is that it?"

"Everyone on Remnant has a time," Rook was unsure of how to properly answer such a question, instead choosing to spout off some philosophical bullshit he'd read in a book once. "We can try and wish as much as we desire, but a person cannot fight their own fate." Still, it didn't make it hurt any less to standing at his brother's deathbed. A toxic mix of emotion swirled within him. Rage, grief, fear of the future, and, most painful of all, relief. Relief that while Corvus would indeed pass soon, he would no longer need to suffer the agony and torment of his illness. "Corvus was one of - if not, _the_ finest warrior the Branwen Tribe has ever seen. But it appears that no matter how strong you are, there will always be someone stronger than you." It stung to already be referring to him in the past tense. However, his death was certain and coming swifter by the minute. It was only a matter of time.

Time went by exceedingly fast, it seemed. Rook and Qrow sat together in silence for the next four hours. Raven never returned. Other tribe members did though, close friends and even the survivors of the raid had forced Bone to let them come and pay their respects to the man who had been beside them on many a holdup. Some visitors shed tears, others, sad smiles and utterances about the 'good times.' Through all of it, however, Corvus remained in his perpetual state of unconsciousness. Occasionally his face would twist and grimace in pain, but he never awoke. A pity, he would go to his grave without ever knowing the words of respect and reverence the people had spoken.

The long periods of relative solitude and peace gave Rook ample opportunities to think and consider his ideas regarding sending someone to one of the huntsman academies. He usually preferred not to self-gratify, but it truly was an ingenious plan. He either of them been in a position to hear it, he was sure that his father and Corvus both would say so as well. How had they not considered it sooner? Get a few of their youngers into a school, have them trained by huntsmen, then when they graduate, take them back in and have them teach the rest of the tribe those same skills and how to counteract them.

If he could get a team of such warriors put together, then they would never need to fear their raids going awry again. They would usher in a new era. No longer would they be common thugs, but feared and respected enemies of Mistral. Once more there would be hushed talk and ghost stories spread about the danger and ferocity of the Branwen Tribe. And such horrific losses as this would become nothing but a distant, sour memory.

And through it all, he, Rook Branwen would be heralded as the savior of the clan. Eventually, he could die, satisfied at his work, and pass the mantle of tribe leader to another. Perhaps his successor would be Raven, though he feared that her lack of mercy and general approach to things such as caring for others would lead to problems. He would need to ponder on the matter.

For now, however, it could wait. It would have to. Qrow, who had dozed off sat with his head resting on Corvus's chest, awoke sharply.

"He's stopped breathing!" the boy exclaimed.

Rook's eyes snapped to examine the sleeping man. Indeed, his chest was no longer moving. The steady rise and fall that had been constant for the past...however long he'd been unconscious, halted.

All other thoughts fled his mind as he sprang from his chair and bolted out the tent. "Bone!" he called. "Dammit, where is he when I need him most? Bone!"

Rook's mad dash through the camp was met with several concerned looks and questions from people that he passed. He ignored them all. He needed to find the doctor, to get confirmation should worst fears be coming to pass. Fears that he should have expected to come true sooner, considering Corvus's line of work.

The doctor, likely having heard the frantic cries of his name, came rushing up to meet him half-way the medical tent and Corvus's. "What's happened? What is it?"

Taking no time to even talk to the man, Rook simply took hold of him and began dragging him back the way he came. The commotion drew more of a crowd and eventually, half the tribe started following close behind them. At this point, subtlety mattered little in his mind. Let them come and gawk as his brother's life ebbed away. It wasn't as if they could do any more damage to him, and they would all find out in time. Why not now?

When they burst into the shelter once more, they found Qrow was now on his feet, leaning up against a support post with a defeated look about his face. Bone's presence, even though he'd been the one who had kept Corvus alive throughout the past week, did not appear to bring him any more comfort. He'd lost hope. That, or he'd chosen not to get his hopes up in the first place. Either way, his expression was that of someone who was confining himself to his own thoughts and misery.

It was worrying, to say the least, to see the boy in such a state. "... Qrow?" Rook whispered, taking a few steps forward.

Not even looking up to meet his gaze, his nephew shook his head. "He's gone."

/-/

Corvus's burial was a quick and quiet affair - much like the man himself. There was no big recession or speech honoring his life. The Branwens never cared for such things. He was simply placed in the earth and any who wished were allowed to come and pay their respects to the man they owed so much.

Some people uttered words of kindness, others pity. The three surviving raiders knelt and begged forgiveness of their leader whom they'd failed. The very gods, it seemed, wept at Corvus's passing. For the soft pitter-patter of rain began as he was lowered into his grave.

Qrow, for most of the event, tried and inevitably failed to hold back the tears that welled in his ruby eyes. Finally breaking down when he felt his uncle's hand firmly clasp his shoulder. As the salty droplets fell down his face, he fully expected to be berated and told to get a grip on himself. But no such words came. Looking back over his shoulder, Qrow found Rook's face almost mirrored his own. His gaze was soft and sheened with tears yet to fall. His lips were pulled into a thin line, damming up what was probably a fierce river of curses and pained cries.

The man said nothing, opting instead to join Qrow in mourning. On the opposite side of the grave, donning an expression of pure steel was Raven. Her face spoke little in terms of emotion over their father's death, but the white in her knuckles as she clenched her fists and the way she refused to meet either his or Rook's gaze said she was indeed feeling some degree of pain. She merely had a better mask on herself.

Qrow considered approaching her, perhaps even trying for some physical contact. Though he could count on one hand the number of times, Raven did occasionally break down and accept a hug. All had been exceptionally monumental events, and she had never done so in the company of others. It was for this reason that Qrow thought better of it. Perhaps he could try later when there would be fewer people around to witness her in a "moment of weakness."

He did, however, somberly make his way around to her side of the fresh mound of soil, coming to a halt beside her. As expected, she did not even acknowledge his presence and simply continued to stare at the ground. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut short and the words were ripped from his throat. Qrow's eyes went wide and he let loose a nearly silent gasp as he felt Raven's fingers lace themselves between his own, interlocking the twins' hands with one another.

She was trembling. Not fearfully or like she was about to cry, no, Raven had too strong of a hold on her emotion for that. Being her twin, Qrow had been able to learn the subtle tells that she had and, now, he could read her like a book. The quivering in her muscles told him that she was seconds away from exploding. She had little to no sorrow within her, all that bubbled beneath the surface was hate. Hate for Corvus, for being too weak to survive his injuries. For the doctor, Bone, for not saving him. Hate directed at Rook, for not predicting the huntsman guard. All of it, trapped inside her, just waiting for the slightest chance to escape.

She didn't let it though. She simply let out a few deep breaths and tightened her grip on his hand. To the point of actual pain as her sharp nails dug into his skin. Qrow bit back a wince at the stinging sensation, but he didn't dare let go. It may have been uncomfortable, but he could bear a little pain to provide his sister even the smallest bit of support in the face of this tragedy. Her show of affection, however small or missable it was, was also doing wonders to help ease his own mind as well.

Neither of the twins moved or spoke for the remainder of the funeral, both content to grieve silently together. Their grasp finally broke once Rook approached them, his face low and twisted with regret.

"I realize that now should be a time of mourning and that the last either of you desires to hear is a request from me," he spoke slowly and in a hushed tone, as though he intended for only them to hear. "But I fear that we do not have the luxuries of choice or time in the matter I wish to discuss." He hardened his gaze and regained some of his lost composure. "I need to speak with the both of you, privately."

Not even waiting to hear their response, Rook turned on his heel and began trudging in the direction of his tent. Qrow looked to Raven with confusion, hoping that she would be able to shed some light on the situation. He did not find any, for she simply strode after their uncle, leaving him standing alone in the mud beside their father's grave. Sparing one final glance for the makeshift headstone atop the dirt mound, Qrow sighed and proceeded to chase after the two of them.

* * *

It was only once he entered into Rook's large, fur tent, that Qrow took notice of just how cold and wet he was. Summer was coming to an end, and the rain was getting colder, to the point where he let out an involuntary shiver as he shook off any excess water.

From where he and Raven were stood, all that they could see of Rook were his broad shoulders hunched over his map table. Shadows from the candlelight played off his figure in unsettling ways against the walls. His fists were balled and his head bowed, making Qrow think that, whatever the news he had for them, it wasn't any better than what had just transpired.

"As I said," his voice rumbled and reverberated in the air around them. "Now should be a time spent mourning the loss of your father. But my hands are tied in this matter. So believe me when I tell you that I take no pleasure in the thought of sending the only family I have left halfway across the world."

Even Raven seemed to flinch at that. What did he mean by that? Send them away? To where? "What are you talking about, uncle?" Qrow asked.

The man shifted, turning to face them whilst sitting on the table. "Forgive me for answering your question with another. But, you both know that it was a huntsman who maimed Corvus, correct?"

The twins nodded in unison.

"Well, as much as it pains me to say it, my brother's demise served a purpose. It proved that our numbers and the element of surprise are no longer adequate when we are pitted against warriors of such a caliber. That huntsmen outclass us and no matter how strong we _think_ we are, we can never hope to measure up to the level of training they have in their academies."

Qrow nodded yet again. He didn't like where this was headed, but he'd be damned if he was going to let Rook know that. The man was his family, yes, but he was also his chief. And as such, he held a great deal of authority besides just being his elder. He could have him flogged and buried up to his neck in fire ants if he wanted. And after losing his brother, he was prone to fly off the hinges at the slightest provocation.

"It is for this reason, that I'm sending you two to Beacon Academy in Vale. I wish it could be someone else, but you're the only ones that are the proper age to apply and you're the most qualified, given your skill."

Yep, he had expected as much. The huntsman academies were governed by a strict set of rules, one of them being that you had to be seventeen to apply. Any older or younger and entry was denied. It also made sense that he would pick Vale. Haven wouldn't accept a Branwen, Atlas was far too militaristic and strict, and Vacuo was... well, Vacuo. Vale and, by extension, Beacon was the only one the four kingdoms that it would be feasible for him to send them.

"What is it that you want us to do, exactly?" Raven asked, even though they were both fairly certain of what Rook had planned.

"You will go to Beacon, learn everything you can about how the huntsmen are trained. Once you graduate in four years time, you will come back and share all the knowledge you have accumulated with the tribe. If you learn how they fight, killing them is a simple process."

_Fuck me. So not only does he intend to ship us to the other side of the goddamn planet, he basically just said that the fate of the entire tribe will depend on us._

"I understand that this is short notice for such a monumental task, but you must see it from my perspective," Rook tried to make it seem as though they had a choice in the matter and that it wasn't already decided for them. "Corvus will be the first of many deaths if we continue to blindly throw ourselves at the increasingly prevalent huntsmen."

He paused and the room grew quiet enough that Qrow could hear his own heart pounding in his chest. Beside him, Raven appeared to be as cool and level-headed as always. She couldn't have been as calm as she let on. There had to be at least some part of the whole deal that she didn't like.

Rook glanced between the two's eyes, gauging their mental states by the expressions they wore. Raven looked sure and determined. Qrow, much the same, except for the twinge of fear behind his crimson eyes. "What do you say? Will you do this for us, for your family?"

"Yes." Raven response was instant and sure-sounding like she'd awaiting the question with bated breath.

Not wanting to show any sign of hesitancy or doubt, Qrow followed suit with a curt nod.

Rook relaxed a great deal once he'd received their somewhat predictable replies. He sighed heavily and his shoulders fell as though some massive weight was removed from them. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to the tribe. To me."

"I think I have an inkling," Qrow said, rocking back on his heels and folding his arms across his chest.

The Branwen chief stiffed once more, having clearly taken the hint from Qrow's change in posture. "As I said, I enjoy the thought of sending you two away about as much as you do. But sacrifices must be made to preserve this tribe."

Again, the man was making sense. The only way for the tribe to survive in a world where huntsmen were becoming increasingly more prevalent was to adapt. And if that meant Qrow and Raven being shipped across the world for four years, it was a small price to pay to prevent more unnecessary fatalities. On top of that, Raven was going to go, regardless of his own feelings on the matter. What kind of brother would he be if he allowed her to do something so drastic alone?

"So when do we leave? And How are we gonna get to Vale?" Qrow hid his disdain for the plan well. That or Rook understood and let it slide. Either way, he answered without hesitation.

"From what little I know of Beacon and the other schools," he said, turning to look at the map on the table. "The start of the year for new students is in about two weeks time. Traveling by way of an airship from Mistral, you should arrive in Vale just in time to apply, if you leave tomorrow, that is." Rook opened up a small lockbox on his desk, revealing a rather sizable stack of lien cards. "Once there, this should help in acquiring supplies; dust, first aid, that kind of thing. From there, it will be in your hands to pass the initiation. We all will be counting on you. Do not disappoint me."

The finale of his explanation felt more like a threat than a request. And, judging by the severity of the matter at hand, it probably was.

Raven stepped forward. "We will not fail you, uncle." She sounded so sure, so confident in her abilities. And with good reason too. Raven far outclassed Qrow and all the other younger members of the tribe. Some of the adults knew not to underestimate her, as well, come to think of it.

"I know you won't." For the first time in what felt like years, Rook actually smiled. It was a sad, guilt-ridden, tug at his lips, but it was nonetheless a smile nonetheless. As though to hide it, he quickly spun around, turning his back to them. "Now go and get some sleep, both of you. You will have a long day tomorrow. You'll need your strength."

The two of them nodded and slipped silently out of the tent. After going their separate ways, Qrow let out a heavy breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. It very quickly dawned on him just how much his life was about to change. Come morning, he and Raven would be loaded onto some aircraft and shipped halfway across Remnant to a place where children were trained to kill monsters and people like those in his tribe.

Then another, more chilling thought came to him. What would they do if his and Raven's objective ever came to light? Surely they wouldn't allow them to continue studying at Beacon. But would they go further than that, particularly if they discovered their rather... unsavory heritage? They had to, surely. The twins would be incarcerated, interrogated, and possibly executed.

_Well, _he thought, swallowing heavily. _I'll just have to make sure no one finds out. _Even if he had to wear some kind of disguise. Become a completely different person. Qrow would keep the truth hidden, buried beneath a facade and a wall of lies.

_Shit, this is gonna fuck up my weekend plans._

* * *

**A/N: Well... shit, that was a bit more emo than I originally anticipated. Especially since I said at the beginning that this story was going to be happier than its predecessor. Just the prologue and our heroes are already official members of the Dead Parents Society.**

**I'm going to try and make this story last a bit longer than Scattered Petals and include a wide variety of themes, topics, and content. ****Some liberties will also be taken with actual RWBY canon, namely regarding the members of Team STRQ and the Beacon staff.**

**For anyone wanting to say "we already know why Qrow and Raven went to Beacon, there's no reason to show us this," first of all, fuck off. If you don't like it, don't read it. Second, all we get in the show is one line from Raven. There's no meaning or follow-up to the reason. She just drops it on us and expects us to figure out the rest. **

**In fact, we get that sort of exposition a lot in RWBY. If an event isn't central to the plot, it gets little more attention than one or two lines of dialogue. This is my way of trying to fill in some of those blank spots. Team STRQ is, without question one of the most important _and_ overlooked teams in RWBY. Moving forward, I'm going to be giving them a bit more life and personality than just one measly picture. They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but whoever coined that phrase was a fucking idiot. I'd rather have a thousand words that paint a picture, not the other way around.**

**Let me know your thoughts on the matter. I'm curious to see how people will take this after the long-shot that was Scattered Petals.**


	2. Chapter 1 - Only Skin Deep

**A/N: Welcome back to Better Call Sau-wait... that's not right.**

**Before we get started, I'd like to give a little disclaimer right here at the proper start of the story. Some characters, Namely Qrow, will have personalities that are quite different from the way we see them in the show. Before anyone shouts "OoC!" in the reviews, let me just say that this is the past. People change, especially in their later teenage years.**

**This fic is meant to show Qrow and Raven's transition from bandits to reliable and loved members of Team STRQ, among other things. That most likely didn't happen overnight. So, don't expect them to go from mean and antisocial brigands to paragons of friendship in the span of a couple of thousand words.**

**Just sayin'.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - _Only Skin Deep_**

* * *

"Argh! I'm kinda freaking out right now!" The sudden outburst prompted a few people to turn in her direction as the crowd shuffled onboard the bullhead. Of course, once she took notice of the attention she was getting from complete strangers; she made sure to lower her voice a bit and pulled her white hood up to hide her embarrassed face.

She heard a mildly amused chuckle come from her scroll. _"You know, it's not too late to come back home. I'm sure no one at Beacon would hold it against you if you backed out now."_

Silver eyes flashed angrily at the man on the small screen. "No, dad. I'm not quitting. It's just... It's just that I've never been around this many people before. It's kinda scary."

_"I get that, believe me, I do,"_ her father smiled. _"But if you want to become a huntress, you're going to have to learn to be around people. Especially since they'll be putting you on a team with four other students soon."_

A pitiful whine escaped her as she sank back into her seat. She knew that, of course. Although, knowing didn't make the prospect of living, fighting, and studying alongside three people she didn't know from a hole in the ground any more appealing. What if they didn't like her? What if they thought she was too immature to be at Beacon? What if her team leader turned out to be a super mean jerk who just bossed her around all day? What if-

_"Summer!" _he snapped her out of the internal rant before she could have a complete mental breakdown. _"I understand that you're nervous, but trust me when I say you'll be fine. You'll make friends with your new team and the other people you'll meet at Beacon. You may even find some boy that falls head over heels for you. Although I warn you, I _will_ kill him if I ever meet him."_

She blushed and laughed at the playful threat. Though, in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if there was any possibility of his words being true.

_"In all seriousness though, I'm proud of you. I'm sure your mother would be as well. It takes a lot of courage and determination to become a hunter, and I have total confidence that you're up for it."_

Summer's cheeks darkened even more. Her father was many things. He was brave, strong, caring, and loving to a fault. But most of all, he wasn't a liar; he may not have shared everything with her, but if she needed to know something or ask a question, he would give an honest answer. Him saying that he believed in her was the greatest morale boost she could have asked for.

"Thanks, dad. That means a lot."

The older man smiled. _"Hey, I just call 'em as I see 'em, Short Stack."_ He chuckled as his attention was drawn away from his screen. _"Alright, I'm gonna have to let you go here. There's a line forming behind me to use this terminal."_

"Okay. Bye. Love you," she waved.

_"Love you too, honey. I'll call again tonight. Good luck, even though I know you won't need it."_ The call ended as his image flashed black.

Summer let out a sigh. Though she was still nervous about the events to come, her heart was no longer pounding out of her chest. She felt like a little girl on the first day of school, which, in a way, she was. In fact, the only difference besides age was that, instead of clinging to her father's leg, she now felt terrified to let his words leave her mind. Looking around the bullhead, many others shared in her plight and were refusing to make eye contact with anyone. There were a few who carried themselves with more confidence. However, even they kept to themselves and did not address any of the other prospective students. They were all in the same boat - well, _ship _rather - it seemed.

"I hope you're right..."

/-/

_"Arriving at Beacon Academy. Please disembark in an orderly fashion" _The computerized voice called over the bullhead's intercom. A second later, the doors slid open and new students began clumsily pushing and shoving to get out and onto the campus. He couldn't blame them he supposed. The airships weren't the most comfortable means of transportation and the idea of finally reaching Beacon after all the work they'd put in was rather enticing.

That being said, he was certainly in no rush. All these idiots thought that getting to the welcoming speech first somehow guaranteed them studentship, like hearing the headmaster address them was the most important event of their lives. Qrow, on the other hand, was content to watch and take his approach slowly, gathering as much information about the campus as he could through basic observation.

One of the first things that came to his attention was the fact that no one seemed bothered by his very "bandit-like" attire. Between the black leather jacket with a missing sleeve, the gray wife-beater tank top, and faded black combat fatigues he was certain he would have given off an aura of unease. He'd thought for sure that his outfit would give people the "keep your distance and don't fuck with me" vibe. Yet, now that he got a better look at everyone, they were all sporting similar dress, although they didn't carry themselves with the same level of caution. Likely they thought themselves safe in their current environment, that there was nothing to be aware of around them.

To their credit, Qrow could feel a sense of peace and security the second he stepped off the aircraft. Though it felt artificial, like a farce. Like the people in charge were sheltering them from the horrors that roamed the nearby forest. It only served to put him even more on edge and he felt himself reaching for the hilt of his weapon in preparation for an attack that wouldn't come.

_Relax, it's just nerves. Don't draw any unneeded attention. _He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting his mind empty and focus back onto the goal at hand. There was still a good fifteen minutes until the welcoming speech, so he had time to get a lay of the land. Breaking off from the rest of the herd, he headed down a small path that looped around and past some pillars.

Beacon's main courtyard was beautifully arranged in terms of both architecture and landscaping. Every brick and plant appeared to have been expertly placed, and likely was. But as impressive as it was, the spectacle was wasted on him. Years of living out of a tent, and seeing that it was an adequate way of life, had numbed Qrow to the sense of awe that the school would have given a normal person. To him, it was nothing more than a giant monument to Vale, the nation simply swinging its dick around for all the world to see.

That someone would dedicate so much time and effort to making a school for training kids to kill monsters look so pretty simply baffled him. All they really needed was an open field for drills and sparring, a couple of tents for shelter, and that would be it. There would be no need for so much glitz and glam. Honestly, Beacon could learn a thing or two from the spartan lifestyle of the Branwen tribe.

Qrow's inner criticism of the campus was cut short by a massive heap and a shock of golden hair slamming into him as he rounded a corner. Next thing he knew, he was half of a tangled pile of limbs on the ground, his own groans mixing with those of the new guy.

"Ungh," it felt like he'd been hit by a truck. "...the hell?"

His new companion seemed to enjoy the collision about as much as he did, responding in kind with his own confused mumbling. The two of them slowly but surely made their way out of the twisted knot of human, grunting with displeasure all the way. On his way up, Qrow did manage to get a look at his unfortunate new friend.

Blond, almost sunbleached hair, tanned skin, and muscles on muscles told him that this was a man used to hot and heavy labor out in the sun. His clothing reinforced that assumption. Hiking boots, worn khaki cargo pants, a rough beige dress shirt which didn't look like it had been seriously washed ever. Farmboy, perhaps.

"Ugh, sorry about that," he said, dusting himself off. "Was in a bit of a hurry and guess I wasn't looking where I was going."

_Okay, let's see if anyone actually buys this bullshit act. _He took a deep breath. "No, no, it was my fault," Qrow laughed awkwardly. "I'm not really the luckiest person, so this was just a matter of time."

The blond glanced over him, probably making his own assessment. A person's outfit told a lot about their personality and Qrow had tried to make his match the face he would be putting on. "Well, either way, as far as first impressions go, that was pretty piss poor on my part." He rubbed the back of his neck, giving a smile and a laugh that closely resembled the one Qrow had on. "Name's Taiyang, Taiyang Xiao Long." He held out a hand in greeting.

_And, hook, line, and sinker._

"Qrow," Taiyang's hand was calloused and rough as though he'd spent his whole life digging in the dirt. His grip was firm as well, a testament to the great physical strength he most likely commanded. Yep, definitely a country kid. "Good to meet you, Tai." His use of the nickname almost immediately alleviated the tension that had befallen the two young men.

Taiyang raised an eyebrow. "Qrow? Like the bird?"

"Yes... like the bird," Qrow growled. _Do not strangle! Don't do it!_ he screamed internally. "My family has a really stupid tradition of naming all the kids after birds. Don't ask me why." Really, what had the Branwens been thinking? It wasn't like the tradition of naming children after colors, so there wasn't even a decent explanation.

The blond man held his hands up defensively. "Hey, I'm judging. Just a unique name, is all." There was no distrust in his voice or eyes, nothing but friendliness. To be honest, Qrow had half expected him to be suspicious of his wandering the grounds and not heading straight to the main hall. Then again, Tai had apparently been doing the same. "So... do you have any idea where we're supposed to be going?"

"Umm, the big building with all the people..."

"Oh, right," Taiyang grimaced. "I knew that. I just wanted to make sure _you _knew."

"Uh-huh," now it was Qrow's turn to arch his brow. "Next you're gonna tell me that you were in the bushes because you saw a fairy."

"Okay, fine. I've got no clue where I'm supposed to be."

"And you somehow deduced the way to find your destination was hidden within Beacon's enchanted garden?"

The pair began walking in the direction of the main hall, the headmaster's welcoming speech would be commencing in a few minutes. Personally, Qrow thought the whole concept was stupid. That they were just going to feed the new initiates some motivational bullshit like _'you all have the potential to change the world.'_ What a crock. Very few others were out at this point and it appeared as though they were the last of the newbies.

"Hey, I felt the need to answer nature's call and figured I'd cut through the bushes," Tai explained. "Figured it'd kill two birds with one stone."

There was a beat of silence as they continued down the path. The quiet was not an awkward one; at least, it wasn't for Qrow's blond companion. He must have thought he'd made an instant friend by bumping into him, and had he been anyone else, probably would have. However, Qrow wasn't looking for people to hang around with, he wasn't here to socialize. All he wanted was to get the whole huntsman training thing over with and get back home.

It wasn't any kind of problem with Taiyang himself. Granted, they'd only been acquainted for a grand total of about a minute, but so far, the man had made a decent impression. He was friendly enough, he supposed.

Better than that, though, he'd proven Qrow's facade would work.

He doubted that some of the teachers wouldn't be fooled by mere faked smiles and sarcasm - the latter of which he possessed an abundance. He would most likely need to act the part of a normal student as well. That meant no stealing, skipping classes to get laid, and worst of all, no drinking.

Qrow rubbed a hand over his face and groaned._ Fuck me, it's going to be a long four years._

If Taiyang had noticed his little display of drama, he didn't show it. In fact, the musclebound blond seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. And enjoying them, by the looks of it, as he was snickering to himself.

"What's so funny?" Qrow asked, not that it mattered.

"Hmm? Oh, it's just that I said I'd 'kill two _birds_ with one stone," he chuckled. "And then I ran into you: a really big bird."

Great, a comedian. Yet again, he didn't seem to notice or care when Qrow groaned into his palms. It was going to be a long four years indeed if this was the kind of person he was going to have to put up with on a daily basis.

Stepping through the large doors to the main auditorium, they were nearly deafened by the chatter of the hundreds of prospective students who had gathered there. Throughout the sea of heads and bodies, Qrow could only make out one or two out of every ten that would make a decent opponent based on appearances.

Many of them had weapons that were designed to kill Grimm but would do little against another person. For others, it looked to be the exact opposite. A chainsaw would work wonders carving through fur and bone, but was easily predicted and dodged by a foe who had a brain. In the same way, a bo staff could be useful in keeping a human at a distance, however, it would do little to stop an Ursa from ripping your head off.

Glancing down at his own, Qrow couldn't help but feel a sense of pride; Harbinger was a work of art in his eyes. The sword was forged from the best materials that the tribe could get their hands on - granted, most, if not, all of it was stolen, but that was neither here nor there. It was a marvel of a weapon. He'd felt like a genius when he proposed the idea of incorporating dual shotgun barrels into the mechanism to his father. Looking back fondly on the first time he'd held it, he smiled and felt the leather wrap on the hilt as he wrapped his fingers around it.

Raven had always had the upper hand in their spars before he'd forged Harbinger. And while some of it could be attributed to her simply being better in combat, Qrow had also considered her own weapon to be giving her an edge. How could he fight someone who could infuse their sword with dust at any second? Sure, Ravager's interchanging dust blades were cool and all, but they made Raven a pain in the ass to fight against.

Speaking of, after scanning the crowd, Qrow finally spotted his twin. It seemed she was being her regular, bitchy self and giving anyone who came too close the murder stare, as where the others in the auditorium were packed in shoulder to shoulder, there was a good six feet between her and the nearest person.

"Hey, I gotta go, Taiyang," he said, turning to face his new 'friend.' "I'll see you around?"

Somewhat confused, the blue-eyed man looked his way. "Umm yeah, sure. Catch you later, Qrow."

Qrow hadn't stuck around to hear his farewell. He had no doubt that he would be seeing Taiyang Xiao Long again in the near future. However, right now, he needed to regroup with his sister.

Raven was dressed in a similar manner to himself, except for her tee shirt being blood red and her jacket having both sleeves. If their appearance didn't give it away that they were identical twins, their outfits sure as hell would. In all honesty, it made Qrow feel stupid, as though at any moment some old woman was going to coo and say they looked so cute together. Although, if anyone did try anything of the sort, they were just begging to feel not one, but two massive blades tickling their throat.

She spared him a glance but otherwise remained facing forward as he shoved his way through the crowd to get to her, earning quite a few pissed off remarks from disgruntled teens in his way. "Where were you," she asked dryly.

"Figured I'd have a look around," Qrow answered, taking his place at her side. "Get a feel for the place before we become full students and have to worry about class times."

Raven hummed in response, although it was barely audible over the bustle of the crowd. "Who was that man you entered with? He acted as though you were friends."

How did he describe Taiyang to her? He wasn't a friend. No, even by normal people's standards it was too early to call him that. Qrow had never just _met_ another person before; in fact, the only people he'd ever known were those within the tribe along with the occasional stray they picked up. Even then, he'd never had an acquaintance before. It was an odd feeling, not knowing if a person was an ally or enemy at first meeting them. "He's just a guy I ran into outside. His name's Taiyang Xiao Long."

"What gave you the impression that I cared to know his name?"

Qrow sighed. Why did she have to be so bitchy? "I don't know. Just forget I even said anything."

"I will."

Even if he was able to come up with some form of a reply to her comment, Qrow was cut off by the lights dimming and the crowd of teens around them going silent. A lone man stepped up on the stage. He was tall and skinny with silver hair and sported a dark green suit and glasses. At his side was an ornate cane, though he did not walk as if he needed it. More likely it was his weapon of choice.

No one dared make a sound as the old man strode slowly to the center of the stage. Once he finally reached the single microphone there, he cleared his throat and gazed out over the horde of what he likely considered to be children. There was a pregnant pause between then and when he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"What do each of you know about huntsmen? What was it that drew you here? Did you grow up hearing stories of chivalry and heroism from your parents? Or was it the promise of glory and riches?"

A few people looked confusedly at each other like they didn't understand the question or its purpose. Qrow could only smirk. If those were the reasons anyone was attempting to enter Beacon, then they would be disappointed. Heroes wound up dead and forgotten, buried in shallow unmarked graves. And wealth only came to those who stepped on the necks of the ones less fortunate than themselves.

"Well, now that you are here, I can assure you that your expectations could not be further from the truth. There is no honor in combat, only a misplaced sense of pride. No amount of slain Grimm will make your dreams of fame and fortune come true."

He could almost hear the frowns on people's faces forming.

"Make no mistake, in no way is this an attempt to dissuade you from embarking on the path laid out for you. Simply take this as a warning that merely attending this academy will not grant you a free pass to an easy life. The road ahead is fraught with perils, both outside these walls and from within.

"Out of all of you, very few will actually be able to earn your studentship. Fewer still will possess the skills and endurance necessary for the grueling journey ahead. You will be tested, both physically and emotionally, in ways you never thought possible. I will not lie; at times you may think death preferable to the hell we will put you through."

Qrow couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh. There was a reason the Branwens were feared among their own tribe as deadly warriors. They were trained from birth, put through vigorous trials that would kill any normal human. The weak die, the strong survive. If Beacon thought it could do any worse than his uncle and father, he welcomed them to try.

"However, should manage to persevere, to grit your teeth and prove yourself worthy of attaining the right to call yourselves hunters; I can assure you, that you will not leave here the same as you are now."

"You're goddamn right we won't be the same," Qrow whispered.

"Welcome to Beacon."

/-/

The crowd had little idea what to do as the headmaster finished his speech. Some people tried to applaud, only to notice that no one else was clapping with them. More common were confused looks at each other and muttering. If the old man was trying to inspire confidence in them, he needed practice. The address was most likely intended to intimidate and weed out the ones who didn't have what it took to make it at Beacon, and to prepare those that did for the future.

However, its effects were lost on Summer Rose, who had only half paid attention to Professor Ozpin's voice. Where those around her had their eyes and ears glued to the stage, hers had been flitting between it and the red-eyed "b-word" that had been so rude to her.

She had only been trying to be friendly! What was so wrong about that? Taking her father's words of encouragement to heart, she had approached the dark-haired woman thinking she could make a friend. After all, it looked like people were avoiding her, maybe she needed someone to talk to.

So, with all the confidence she could muster, Summer had stepped up to her and given a cheerful greeting and introduction of herself. She had no idea what she was expecting; maybe the girl would be shy or surprised to have someone talk to her. However, nothing could have prepared her for the response she received.

_"Fuck off,"_ the words still rang in her ears. The complete lack of interest in her tone, mixed with the animosity of the words had shocked Summer to her core. She hadn't even looked her way, instead, she kept her red eyes facing the stage. That honestly hurt more than being cursed at; the implication that she wasn't even worth glancing at.

Needless to say, as far as first impressions went, Summer had neither made nor had the best from Beacon.

She kept her hood pulled up as the crowd began filing out of the hall, she wanted to avoid human contact as much as possible now. The sea of people helped her feel as though she was blending in - though, considering the fact that she was garbed in a snow-white cloak, she was doing a very good job. Thankfully, she managed to lose sight and steer clear of her new mortal enemy, small mercies.

What would her father say when she told him about this? He'd been so certain that she would be fine, yet here she was with only two words said to her, both of them meant to insult. Would he tell her to chin up and keep going? Probably. Then again, he _did_ have a very protective attitude when it came to her. There was a very real possibility that he would come all the way to Beacon from wherever he was now just to give her a hug and a severe tongue lashing to the mean girl.

The thought of her father, a full-fledged huntsman, wagging his finger at the girl made Summer chuckle. He could be silly like that sometimes. Throughout her childhood, every time she fell off her bike or got pushed around at school, he was right there to help her up and verbally beat her foes down, whether they were sentient or not.

Most others would have shied away from an overprotective parent like him. Not wanting to rely on them to solve all their problems. Summer was not like that. She loved it when her dad came to her rescue, it made her feel special, loved, wanted. If that was something normal people didn't like, then she didn't want to be normal. She couldn't wait for the day to be over with so he would call and she could vent all the day's frustrations on him.

Although, it seemed like fate wasn't done playing with her yet.

Within an instant, Summer felt her cloak get stepped on, her legs give way, and the ground smack her in the face. All the people in the crowd around her simply trudged on by, a few clumsy feet jabbed into her back or sides. If she had cried out, it must have been lost amongst the clamor and chatter.

"Ungh, why me?" she whimpered as the last of the throng shuffled past.

Had she committed some kind of cardinal sin and angered a deity? Was that why she was having such terrible luck today? On top of getting royally rejected at her first attempt to make a friend, now she had been trampled over by her so-called 'peers.' No one had even stopped to help her up, ask if she was okay, or anything. They just kept on their way like she wasn't worth the effort. Summer had even caught a few snickers and casual insults thrown her way.

Could today get any worse?

"Hey, you need a hand?" a masculine voice asked.

"Huh?" she looked up, brushing her red-tipped bangs out of her eyes. Standing above her with a concerned look on his face was a tall blond man. His blue eyes remained locked on hers as she just stared up like a dow in headlights.

"I mean unless you're down there by choice..." he joked. "In that case, I'll just be on my way." He wore a smile that said he found her current state amusing yet not so at her expense. More like he found the situation funny.

"I-I uh... yeah," Summer stammered, as he pulled her to her feet. He was strong, deceptively so, even for his massive physique; it appeared to take no effort on his part to lift her one-handed. "Thanks."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Eh, no sweat. You look like you're havin' a rough day."

"Ugh, you don't know the half of it."

Summer scowled as her knight without armor chuckled. "Well, hopefully, I can make it at least a little better. I'm Taiyang, but most people call me Tai." He stretched out a hand.

"Summer Rose," she smiled for what felt like the first time that day. Maybe her luck wasn't so bad after all? "Are you a new student, too?"

Taiyang nodded as they began walking in the direction of the crowd. "Yep. New guy here, ready to kick Beacon's ass!" He made an overly dramatic show of flexing his biceps, earning a giggle from his audience. The pose didn't last long, as he shook his head, laughing. "That's what I tell people anyway. In reality, I'm kinda freaked out by this whole ordeal."

Summer nodded. So, she wasn't the only one? A part of her felt like jumping for joy that someone else was sharing her pain. The rest was ashamed at that part for even thinking such things. "Was it the headmaster's not-so-warm welcome?"

"Nah, that's not really all that intimidating. I wasn't expecting it to be so pessimistic, but it didn't have me pissing myself, either," he said. "No, it's more the fact that - and this is gonna sound stupid - I'm nervous at being so far away from home."

She blinked. Really? They were enrolling in a school to learn to fight literal monsters, and he was homesick? Well, it wasn't like she was any better. Not an hour ago had she been clinging to her father's voice as she boarded a bullhead. Who was she to judge, anyway?

"It's not like I've never been away before, my family's taken the occasional vacation," Tai continued. "I'm honestly worried about what might happen with me gone. My parents can only do so much without me."

"That's understandable. I guess if my dad weren't a huntsman, I'd be worried, too."

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I know they'll be fine, but it doesn't stop me from thinking about them."

"Hey," Summer nudged his arm. "Old people are old for a reason. They lived long enough to be that way. I'm sure your folks'll be fine."

Tai smiled. "I guess you're right. Thanks, Summer."

As they continued toward the dining hall, where they would be spending the night in a big co-ed sleepover, the pair chatted back and forth. Nothing too profound, mostly how they were excited to begin training, that they had a shared dread of the upcoming academic classes, and various other random bits of banter. The conversation felt nice, relaxed like one she would have with her dad. It seemed as though she had made a friend in him. _Yes! So, I'm not cursed, _she cheered from within her own mind.

Maybe things would work out fine after all.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, Tai's making a very Jaune-ish entrance to the story. I knew I would be making _some_ parallels to the first few episodes of RWBY at the beginning of this fic, but damn. Honestly, I'm trying not to rely on the show too much, and I wish I didn't have to do an initiation arc; but, sadly, it is necessary to establish the personalities and relationships of the characters early on.**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the first real chapter of A Stark Contrast. The next one will be out as soon as I can get a free moment to write. Between raising a kid, prepping for a new baby, and working full-time, I'm surprised that I can even keep my fucking eyes open.**


	3. Chapter 2 - Sex, Showers, and Strategy

**A/N: Last time, on Dragon Ba-**_**dammit!**_

**I can't think of anything meaningful to put here so here we go.**

* * *

Chapter** 2: Sex, Showers, and Strategy**

* * *

Raven found her fingers once again unconsciously grazing across the cold steel under her pack. All night it had been a reoccurring tic; whenever someone made too much noise or stood up to take a late-night piss. Qrow could call her paranoid all he wanted, she just didn't feel safe without a knife within reach, hadn't since she was a child.

This time, the reason for her gripping the weapon was a boy and girl not-so-stealthily making their way to the restrooms. Her face twisted with annoyance every time they giggled or whispered to one another. Idiots. Did they not realize that tomorrow was initiation, or could they not see for their innate hormonal impulses? Whatever the case, Raven growled and rolled over, trying and failing to push all thoughts of her childish peers from her head.

Such people were exactly the kind that the headmaster spoke of, the weaklings that wouldn't last the day. If they didn't understand the importance of sleep, if they went off half-cocked into a horde of Grimm, they'd be ripped to shreds in seconds. Such carelessness would have never been tolerated in the Branwen tribe.

Hopefully, there would not be anyone of that sort after initiation. With any luck, the only ones who made the cut would be the true warriors, the ones strong enough to stay alive and intelligent enough to keep their legs together.

Raven's mind then wandered to her twin, who was fast asleep a few feet away. Qrow was definitely skilled; back home, he had been the only person her age to pose a challenge in combat. She didn't need to worry about him getting himself killed because someone outclassed him.

However, Qrow was a teenage boy, with all the hormones and raging sex drive that came with. There had never been too many women their age in the camp, and as far as Raven knew, he'd only ever had one real encounter with any of them. And that had only been a one-night stand. Now, here he was, surrounded by hundreds of new faces, and nearly every one of them dolled up to draw his attention.

Only time would tell if he could keep it in his pants and not get them in trouble.

Raven's thoughts soon drifted away from such matters and. Eventually, she began running through all the various Grimm she had ever encountered, and their weakest points. Some people counted sheep to get to sleep, she thought of the most efficient ways to dispatch monsters. Ursa were most vulnerable at the point where their neck and jaw met, as the flesh was tender and there was no armor plating there. Beowolves' limbs were easily removed with a good swing of her sword. The Taijitu's eyes were the best path to its brain…

"Raven!" She was ripped from her slumber by a hand firmly grasping her arm and another catching her wrist as she thrust her dagger towards her assailant's throat. It took a good three seconds before she was able to remember where she was, why she was there, and who woke her.

It was Qrow, of course, knelt over her with a bored expression on his face. Not exactly the kind of look one would expect from someone with a knifepoint half an inch from his jugular. "Qrow! What the hell are you thinking?"

He shrugged as he let go of her. "You weren't waking up. Knew you'd be all over my ass if I let you sleep in and risk being late; so, I took matters into my own hands."

She scowled. He was right, though. She _would _have been less than pleased if she had made them late. Amazing, simply amazing, he had a brain between his ears.

She grunted as he pulled her to her feet. The night had not been kind to her back, and the hard floor left her stiff. Nothing that couldn't be walked off, and a damn sight better than some of the places she'd had to sleep in the past. But it was still uncomfortable.

With little more than a muttered command to watch her things, Raven left Qrow to freshen up in the changing rooms. An annoyed sigh escaped her lips as she viewed herself in the mirror. She was the picture of a cold-blooded warrior… not. Her black hair was frizzed all over the place, there were bags hanging beneath her ruby eyes, indicative of her lack of sleep. The only thing she could do to improve her image was splash ice cold water on her face and tie her wild locks back. Not that her appearance really mattered all that much, she still had standards, though. Contrary to what most Mistralians would say, she wasn't a savage.

Much to her chagrin, there was not enough time for a shower. One of the few luxuries she wouldn't have minded if the Branwen tribe adopted, showers. She'd only ever had a few in her life, normally bathing in a stream, river, or another body of water. Although, there was something to be said about having hot _and_ cold water on demand. And the concept of not having to constantly look over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her; it was enough to sell her on the idea.

Sadly, she would have to wait before experiencing the joys of a shower again. Duty called and initiation wasn't going to complete itself.

Raven gave herself one final glance in the mirror before exiting the changing room. Finding her look not quite what she'd hoped, but adequate, she exited to find Qrow waiting outside. How odd had that appeared to any passersby? A scruffy-looking young man standing at the door to the women's dressing area, occasionally throwing glances in. Well, creepy would be one way of putting it.

"Ready?" he asked upon seeing her.

"As I'll ever be," Raven sighed. "Let's get this over with." She wasn't thrilled with the task ahead, but she understood its merit. It was not only a test to prepare students for the rigors of their attendance at Beacon, but also a means to weed out the weaker applicants. Thrashing the chaff, so to speak.

The Branwens made to follow the crowd of their peers that had begun exiting the building. There were also a few stragglers like themselves who were staying behind the herd, while some were still yet to awake.

_Looks as though certain things are already being put to the test._ Raven sneered as she stepped over a twisted lump of a sleeping bag. Why put so much effort into gaining admission to one of the most prestigious schools on Remnant, only to waste your chance by oversleeping? Idiots.

Never mind them. She needed to focus.

"You know, I heard some of the others talking," Qrow said. "Apparently, this trial is how they put together the teams. Supposed to be teams of four."

She sighed, missing his point. For such a simple man, he could be so vague sometimes. "And? This matters how?"

"_And_ I feel like this should be addressed. What if we're not put on the same team, what if we are? We need to have a plan."

A plan? For what? Honestly, what was so hard to understand about _get accepted into Beacon, learn to fight like huntsmen, get out_? He was treating this like some covert military operation like every move had to carefully plotted and discussed.

"What do we do about our teammates?" he went on.

"What about them? They don't have to matter. Unless you were planning on revealing our reason for being here to them."

Qrow held his arms up defensively, shaking his head. "I never said that!"

"Then, what's the point of worrying about them?" Raven said, rolling her eyes.

He let out a long breath, the task that their uncle had given was weighing heavy on him, she could tell. Even when it had been assigned, he looked to be in a complete panic over it. Neither he nor Raven had ever left the tribe's territory for an extended amount of time. Couple that with the all too sudden death of their father, she could understand why he was freaking out slightly.

On top of everything, there was also the ever-present threat of-

"What if somebody asks questions about our name?" he whispered.

Fuck.

Yep. There it was; the thing that even she felt some small worry over. If anyone, worst of all, the headmaster, managed to put two and two together there would be many difficult questions that would need answers. Branwen wasn't a common surname, particularly outside of Mistral. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever even heard of any other Branwens apart from her family.

It was also rather infamous around Anima, usually synonymous with destroyed farmsteads and raided villages. She was honestly surprised they'd been able to secure transport to Vale. Enough money exchanged under the table could really get you whatever you wanted it seemed.

For once, Qrow was right; when - not if, _when_ \- Ozpin looked into them, they did need a story to stick to. "If that happens," Raven said uncharacteristically softly. "We'll deal with it. For now, don't concern yourself with it. You'll drive yourself and me insane." It wasn't a matter to be swept under the rug so easily, but he was stressed out. The least she could to help him was to be the supportive big sister. Even if it ever got out, she'd deny it.

"I guess you're right. I'm just being paranoid."

She smiled smugly. "Of course, I'm right. And a little healthy paranoia is good, it keeps you from doing something stupid."

The pair continued on in silence for a good while longer. It seemed her little words of comfort had done their job. Qrow carried himself more confidently and there was a glint of determination behind his eyes. He looked ready to tackle Beacon head-on and kick its ass. It was a good look for him, gave him an air of cockiness that felt justified, given his skillset.

"Still," he said. "I can't help but wonder if we'll be put on a team together."

Hmm, did she let the moment of happy bonding continue, or did she ruin it? Decisions, decisions. After giving it some thought, she took door number two. "Gods, I hope not. I think if I'm stuck sharing a dorm room, study hours, _and_ a bathroom with you for the next four years, I'll kill myself."

He chuckled. "Bitch."

"Asshole."

* * *

Even with her rather wide vocabulary, if there was a word to describe Raven's mood while awaiting the headmaster to begin initiation, it eluded her. Tired was not correct for, while she had been kept awake for a good amount of time the previous night, she had gotten enough rest to function. Annoyed was too soft a word; cranky just sounded childish. What fell over her surpassed mere irritation but had yet to sprout into full-blown anger.

Qrow would have simply called her _bitchy_. He always was simple like that, never delving any further into a matter than was absolutely necessary. Putting the minimal amount of effort into everything. That wasn't to say he was lazy. He just had yet to find anything to truly strive for, to dedicate his life to honing a craft. Hell, he hadn't even managed to find a girlfriend.

For Raven, she strove to become stronger - no, the _strongest_. To fight and bleed for the right to call herself the best. Combat was the surest way to achieve such a goal. That moment when her opponent lay beaten and battered at her feet. When they admitted defeat, she swore that the feeling that washed over her was almost... orgasmic.

For a while, it had appeared that her brother shared in her ambition - even if it was only directed at her. When they would spar, he would strike with the same ferocity as she. Every once and a while, he would even match her, dragging them to a stalemate. The look that he would give her at those times, he was positively elated. And the comments he made in private...

Well, needless to say, she was very glad such times were few and far between.

Raven felt none of that drive at the moment, however. Professor Ozpin had relayed the rules of the trial, simple as they were. Enter the forest, find a relic in a temple, get out. Had it not been for the promise of many Grimm along the way, she might've yawned at the dullness of the test. She and Qrow could have pulled something like this off in their sleep.

Then he sprang the criteria for finding their partners. Eye contact? Fucking _eye contact_?! Never mind how stupid of a determiner that was, they were also going to be launched into the woods at random. Meaning she and her twin could quite possibly land miles apart and not know it.

Qrow might have suggested she use her semblance, but then the old man said they would be monitored. That shut the idea down really quick. If she did open up a portal and find him that way, it would no doubt cause a stir and draw attention to them. That was something they did not need. Eyes on the Branwen twins would lead to questions, which in turn would result in their family name being brought up. Raven very much doubted they would simply be able to explain _that _away as an unfortunate familial relation without a predetermined story. A story that would require time to flesh out.

Stood on a steel platform on the edge of a sheer cliff, she was treated to a beautiful view of the Emerald Forest. Deciduous trees with infinite shades of green stretched on for miles as far as the eye could see. Below, the creatures of Grimm wandered, hunting for anything with a pulse to rip apart. It was the perfect blend of peace and chaos. Beauty and hideous deformity.

It could all burn down, for all she cared.

"Are there any questions?" Ozpin's voice brought her back into the real world. He waited for a few seconds, and when no one spoke up, nodded. "Very well. I wish you all the best of luck then. Try not to die."

Starting from Raven's far right, initiates began launching into the sky. One after the other, each launch pad propelled its occupant up with startling speed. Before she could utter a single syllable of her 'good luck' wish to Qrow, he was gone. And even sooner still, she was also airborne.

The wind bit at her cheeks and eyes like shards of cold glass slashing over her. If only she'd thought to bring some goggles or at the very least, glasses. Seriously, Beacon could have warned them a bit better. How was she supposed to survive a fall at this speed, hold her arms out and _flap_?

It was beautiful though, the trees beneath, raced by like an emerald river, with the occasional rock poking through the canopy. A flock of birds fluttered around her as she shot past, one of them narrowly missing her face. As brief as it was, her trip into the skies was pleasant. Raven enjoyed the relaxing sensation of the wind carrying her, of being truly free from the bonds of the ground.

The altitude granted her an adequate view of her destination as well. The forest temple was just where he'd said it would be; the northern end of the forest in a large clearing. That was where she would need to head… eventually. First, she needed to land without shattering every bone in her body.

But how to go about it? Opening up a portal was out since Qrow likely couldn't give her any aid in this situation. Simply grabbing onto a tree branch was an option. Well, that was if she wanted to rip her arms out their sockets. Her weapon didn't really serve any purpose either. It didn't have any attachments that produced enough force to slow her descent.

Much to her own surprise, she found herself coveting Qrow's weapon. Its dual shotguns were perfect for just such an occasion, on account of how they somehow defied the laws of physics and grav-

Wait… _Gravity_! That was it!

As her descent began, Raven quickly ripped Ravager from its mechanized sheath. Truly a marvel of engineering, especially by bandit standards, the long katana's blade was interchangeable, allowing for blades forged from dust to be attached. On the day she and Qrow had arrived in Vale, she had used a rather large portion of the lien Rook had given them to purchase rarer dust variants. The most valuable of them all, being gravity manipulating dust. The second the sword was free; she could feel the difference in weight. Where her typical steel blade was still rather light for its size, the glowing purple one felt like little more than air in her hand.

Sadly, though, there was not enough time to admire it, as within moments, Ravager was reduced to naught but a hilt in her palm, the blade having exploded. The radiating particles formed a cloud around her, sticking to her skin and clothing, but more importantly, slowing her fall. Such a small amount was not enough to halt her completely, however, it did the job she'd hoped it would and Raven found herself gliding easily down onto an exposed branch.

_How's that for a 'landing strategy, old man?_ she smirked, turning to peer back at the cliff from whence she came. Not the most orthodox method, certainly not the cheapest, either. But damn, had it been satisfying. Honestly, she was surprised at herself. Surprised and more than a little amazed. She'd always been good, but again, damn.

With a smug grin still smeared across her lips, Raven scanned the horizon, attempting to get the lay of the land. True to its name, the Emerald forest was nothing but lush green trees and hills as far as she could see. The temple was once more hidden from view, though she already had an idea of its direction. Well then, the first order of business was to start heading that way.

Beneath her, several bold critters had gathered around to see what had invaded their domain. Most scattered when she landed at the trunk with a muffled thud, though some still remained curious enough to risk sticking around. However, squirrels' courage only went so far, it seemed, for when Raven drew Ravager, they too scrambled from the shrieking metal.

With careful precision, her eyes slowly traced around the forest. Her vision was obscured by vegetation for the most part, though what little she could make out appeared calm. Good, there were no Grimm in the immediate area, but that could change soon. It was best for her to get a move on. Turning northward, she began the long sprint into the woods.

She made good time, covering a great distance in just a few minutes, only stopping when she heard Grimm or sounds of combat. Still no sign of Qrow, but that didn't bother her. The forest was a big place, chances were, he was miles away. Then again, they were heading for the same spot, so they could run into one another.

But did she want that? Raven pondered while she ran. Sure, having Qrow as a partner would be convenient, but it would also be tedious. The two of them would be around each other nonstop for the next four years. Something she wasn't entirely opposed to, it would help with training, but familiarity bred contempt. If they weren't partners or, even better, not even on the same team, she wouldn't tire of his presence so quickly. It would also reduce the chances of their relation to the tribe being brought up if they spent very little time together and stayed under the radar.

_Dammit_, she scolded herself. _I told Qrow not to worry about this, yet here I am, thinking about it again. _To be fair, though, she _had_ been worried about it as well. Albeit a bit more low-key than her brother. It wouldn't do for both of the Branwens to be constantly twitching and looking over their shoulders. Neither would it for them to be approached by _concerned _teachers for exhibiting such behavior.

"Enough," Raven hissed to herself. "I'll cross that bridge when I reach it." For now, she just had to focus on finding a suitable partner. And she berated Qrow for lacking in concentration…

Thank the gods he couldn't hear her thoughts now.

After another few minutes of sprinting, the only sounds she heard being the beating of her feet on the forest floor and her remarkably steady breathing, She once more sensed battle nearby. The distinctive scent of Grimm blood and gunpowder wafted through the air. Explosions, punctuated by howls of rage, became audible the closer she came. Eventually Raven came to a halt at the edge of a small clearing, the ferocious combat in the center of which too tempting to ignore.

The foray consisted of three massive Ursa surrounding one blond man. Judging from the wild smile that was plastered across his face, it was unlikely that the beasts had ambushed him, rather, he must have engaged them of his own volition. A fact which spoke of bravery, stupidity, or confidence in his own physical prowess. Probably a combination of all three, to be honest.

The fight looked to be an even one, with the Grimm swiping and lunging for the young man and receiving shockingly powerful punches to the face as a reward. He didn't appear to be all that fast, instead relying on his resilience and sheer might to outfight the monsters; Raven couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Huntsmen were required to be agile and fast to avoid the quicker Grimm, he looked to be neither. Though, there was something to be said about having an absolute tank in your corner.

The man punctuated her thought by landing a solid blow on one of the Ursai's snout. The punch was powerful, and probably hurt like a bitch; though not as much, she suspected, as the brutal detonation of dust that sent it flying back. Apparently, this man's knuckle dusters had some sort of explosive dust discharge in them. Okay, this guy was definitely intriguing, at least.

The Ursa roared as it rolled over, attempting to hoist its massive frame off the ground. Unfortunately noticing her as it did so, Raven felt the earth beneath her feet shake and hot breath waft over her face, even from several meters away. The beast stood up menacingly on its hind legs, letting loose another howl. She responded with a rather unimpressed sigh. Great, now she was going to have to get involved in this battle and likely wind up partnering with her blonde acquaintance in the process.

She held her ground as it lumbered toward her; Ursai were a lot slower than most other Grimm on account of their size, so she had a good three or four seconds to ready herself. Ravager tore through its tough hide like butter as she gracefully sidestepped. It was a poor excuse for a strike, more to aggravate her foe than do any real damage. As such, the Ursa hardly even acknowledged it as it stormed by her; instead, getting even more pissed at her. Clumps of grass and dirt flew as a gigantic paw slammed down at her, yet again, catching nothing.

Once, twice, three times more, the Ursa tried and failed to grab Raven. And with each unsuccessful attack, it grew more and more enraged, to the point of tearing down a tree she moved around. Through it all, she remained calm, deftly avoiding each blow and leading the creature along. As she ducked another oncoming swipe, she thrust her blade toward the exposed flesh of an armpit, slicing the sensitive skin wide open and prompting a wail of anger and pain. However, she did not let up, as the sword cleared the wound she swung down and around the back of the Ursa's leg. The knee folded like a book as blade bit into flesh, dark blood spraying from the opening. The mighty crash that the beast made upon falling sent great shockwaves through the earth. Trees rattled and shook at the small-scale earthquake.

Deprived of two of its limbs, the Ursa howled with malice and reached for Raven in vain as she slowly walked around to its face. It bit and snapped at her, anything it could do to end her existence. She wasn't intimidated. How could she be cowed by a monster that couldn't even stand on its own, let alone defeat her? Blood dripped from Ravager's long blade; proof that _she_ was the superior killer. It shouldn't have been so satisfying to have bested such a common Grimm, but she could not help it. There was just something thrilling and pleasing about emerging victorious from a fight, no matter how short or small.

And victorious she had been.

The Ursa fell limp and its wild thrashing finally ceased once she plunged the katana into its eye socket, killing it instantly. Black ooze bubbled out from the hole as she slid the weapon free, flinging the life-giving liquid off with a sharp flick.

"Well, thanks for the assist," a voice called from behind her. "Honestly, though, I could've ended it anytime. Was just having a little fun."

Raven spared her new partner a glance as she sheathed her sword. Tall, tan, muscular, a pair of big blue eyes, all in all, not hideous to look at. That would make him at least tolerable to a degree. He could obviously fight, given that he had already dispatched the other two Ursa that had previously been attacking him. It would remain to be seen if he had a personality she could bear. Only time would tell.

Raven smirked. "Playing with your food?"

"More like finding a couple new punching bags."

There was a brief silence as she turned to face him. He looked to her weapon first, likely getting a sense of what kind of fighter she was. Next, he _very _quickly examined her outfit and figure, she didn't miss how his eyes locked onto the rather generous amount of cleavage she was showing. Once a man, always a man.

The slightest bit of pink tinted his cheeks when she cleared her throat, signifying that he'd been caught. "Uh… I'm Tai," he blurted, sticking a hand out suddenly. "Nice to meet you, um…?"

She chuckled, shifting away. "Raven."

"Raven, huh? What're the odds?" He muttered to himself, apparently unfazed by her blatant disregard for his handshake.

Without another word, she resumed her route to the forest temple, albeit at a slower pace. She had to factor in her new, probably slower companion. An inconvenience? Possibly, but he could handle himself in combat. In which case, she could forgive a minor handicap when it came to agility. Only if he turned out to be dead weight, would she begin to question his value. For now, though, Tai would be satisfactory. Not perfect, but she could work with him.

It remained to be seen if Qrow would be so lucky with his new partner.

* * *

**A/N: Sigh.**

**And so, the dreaded "Initiation Arc" continues.**

**Sorry about the wait for this story. Life is hectic right now. My father is having some medical issues and I've been working around my parents' house for the past few weeks, on top of my other responsibilities.**


	4. Chapter 3 - Let Us Slay (& Be Slayed)

**A/N: Sorry about taking so long to upload this. Someone very close to my heart passed away, and I haven't felt up to writing. I won't bore you with the depressing details, know that I'm over it now. Well, I don't think I'll ever really be _over_ it, but I've gotten over the worst of it - five stages and all that bullshit that the shrinks spew out for a bill and a half an hour.**

**Now that sad, lonely, life-reflecty time is over, let's check in on our favorite alcoholic asshole, shall we?**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Let Us Slay (& Be Slayed)**

* * *

Things could have been going better.

Qrow's landing wasn't the best, to say the least. Upon impact, he'd caught a branch to the shoulder and now sported a nasty bruise. It was sore and stung a bit if he moved it the wrong way. The worst part was, he hadn't even hit the ground before it happened. What a fantastic way to begin initiation; not even five minutes in and he'd already been injured.

"Fuck me," he grumbled as he began his jog northward. He would have preferred to sit down and get his bearings, maybe even wait for Raven, but this was a contest of speed as well as skill. No rest for the wicked, as they said.

He kept up a brisk pace, his gait was one that allowed him to stay alert, take in his surroundings, and also make decent progress. The Emerald forest seemed mostly devoid of life, with signs of Grimm and animals, but none in sight. Claw marks had been gouged into the bark of trees around him, probably a way of marking territory for some creatures. Qrow knew he was trespassing in something else's domain, their hunting ground. Such an offense was usually punished severely back in the tribe. If some poor, unfortunate soul wandered onto their turf, they were promptly dealt with - more often than not, with violence.

It was for this reason that he kept his hands at the ready, positioned to quickly retrieve Harbinger from his back. If he were on some Grimm's home base, he'd need to stay sharp. Wherever there was one, there were sure to be more. The same logic could be applied to humans, most of the time. If a person had the balls to attack you, chances were they were drunk, confident, or they had back-up on the way. The first could be quickly subdued, as could the second if that pride was misplaced. However, if they were cocky because their friends were there to help them out if the situation went south, things could get hairy pretty quick.

Judging by what Qrow was hearing, his "peers" hadn't realized that little tidbit and engaged the Grimm without thinking. Gunshots, explosions, the ring of steel skipping off bone plates, all accompanied by the roars of monsters echoed throughout the woods around him. Then came the screams. The horrified shrieks of those initiates realizing they'd bitten off more than they could chew and were about to pay for it. If he'd been anyone else, someone with a working moral compass or even just somebody who hadn't been brought up by bandits, he would have rushed to save them.

He wasn't, though. And he had. In fact, he did precisely the opposite. Wherever he heard the sounds of combat or death, he moved in the other direction. A part of him told him that he was heartless. That he should go help those people. A portion of him agreed. If those others needed help and it was within his power to save them from almost certain death, shouldn't he? Wasn't that what huntsmen did: kill monsters and protect people? It was. The proctors watching him would say it was, too.

However, some people were beyond saving. Even if he ran as fast as he could to help them, there wasn't really any guarantee that they would be alive when he got there, either. Then he'd be stuck with a dead partner for the next four years if he made eye-contact with them. In the same vein, some people didn't deserve to be saved. If any of his family or tribesmen were on the verge of being ripped apart by a Beowolf, any normal huntsman wouldn't bat an eye at merely letting it happen. In that case, why should Qrow care now? They probably would show him the same courtesy.

So, with his mind made up, the Branwen scion merely ran on, sparing not even a passing glance in the direction of his fellows. If they were watching and didn't like how he handled himself in such a situation, they should have intervened. On the cliff, the headmaster had explicitly stated they were to head to the temple and retrieve an artifact. Hadn't he also mentioned that if they didn't have what it took to survive the test, they would die? Qrow was simply following instructions.

Whatever happened to the others, was their problem, not his.

/-/

Ozpin watched the computer screen on his desk intently. The initiation trial was progressing, that much was certain. He couldn't say that it was going as expected, though. Pairs were forming and continuing toward the temple, as they should. However, it appeared that there were many in this new semester that had more bravado than brains. Once they met up with their partner, all sense of caution and common sense left them.

More and more were foolishly engaging in battles with Grimm and winding up regretting it. Some had already died. It was a shame. But one that he had warned them about. More than once. If they didn't have the skills to survive, then they would die. Regrettable. Downright awful, in fact. That Ozpin was literally _throwing children_ into a forest infested with beings that preyed on humanity for sport; it almost made him sick to his stomach.

_How the mighty have fallen,_ he thought to himself. What would his past selves feel about him now? The men whom he had been so like-minded with that he shared their bodies. How would they react? With disgust, most likely. He was meant to be the savior of Remnant. To bring the world together and end the fighting. Yet, here he was, watching the next generation fall to the teeth and claws of mankind's ancient foe.

He dreaded what the reactions of their parents would be; anger, tears, and swearing, no doubt. All of it directed at him. In the end, it would just be more paperwork and one more thing he added to his long list of regrets.

Although, not all the fault would lie on his shoulders. Out in the Emerald forest, the Grimm ran rampant. He'd had huntsmen scour it for years, and they'd never even been able to make a dent in the population. Out there, especially for untrained children, even the smallest injury was a death sentence.

That was_ if_ you were injured.

The ones that managed to avoid being maimed; Ozpin was reasonably sure that they would pass the test. Whether by skill in battle or just blind luck, several prospective students were making decent headway through the wood. Many of them had already managed to find partners, one pair had even reached the temple and claimed their prize.

"Well, that's one down," he said, sipping coffee from his mug.

There were two of them, however, that piqued the immortal's interest. The strange pair checked nearly every box on Ozpin's "worth looking into" list. It wasn't uncommon to see siblings apply to Beacon. Chances were, in fact, that if the younger would follow the older's example out of admiration. Twins, though; that was something one didn't see every day. Although, that wasn't what had caught his eye when looking over their papers.

It was their names that had grabbed his attention.

Qrow and Raven… Branwen.

Amusing first names aside, it had been troubling to see two with the surname of a notorious bandit clan appear on his desk. Troubling and more than a little intriguing. At first, he had considered contacting the authorities. The council would no doubt have his head if they found out who these two were - _if_ they were, in fact, from _those_ Branwens. However, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he'd accepted them. Time would tell if that were a mistake.

So far, they were proving mildly intriguing, at least. Raven's unorthodox landing had caused Ozpin to raise his eyebrows at the girl's quick thinking. Gravity dust was a sorely underappreciated material simply because of how hard it was to manipulate and weaponize. However, she'd had no problem figuring out a use for it. Her swift, efficient manner of dispatching the Grimm in her path had shown her to be skilled with her weapon of choice.

And what a weapon it was; with such a level of craftsmanship he was unused to seeing in new recruits' arms, the blade was the perfect fusion of a classic tool and modern technology. If forest-dwelling bandits could acquire such terrifying equipment, then there was trouble brewing on the horizon for the civilians out in the countryside. Then again, Raven's brother, Qrow's weapon didn't appear to be nearly as advanced; merely consisting of a broadsword and twin shotgun barrels. So, in that case, Raven might have stolen her katana from some unfortunate huntsman.

She had also found herself a partner: Taiyang Xiao Long. There was nothing too outstanding about the boy, other than his considerable brawn. His parents were farmers in the country outside of Mistral, he never attended a combat school, or received any formal training of any kind. He was entirely unremarkable. But Ozpin knew all too well not to judge a book by its cover. It was often the greatest of heroes that rose from humble beginnings. So far, he and the young Miss Branwen had made good progress through the forest. Remarkably few Grimm stood in their way. Those that did soon met a grizzly end.

The headmaster nodded to himself. This would be a pair that would go far together.

The other Branwen, Qrow, seemed to be having less success than his sister. He was yet to find a partner and was moving right through an area that was rather thick with Grimm. The monsters' presence was due in large part to the swell of initiates around, many of which were struggling in pairs to fend off the ravenous beasts. Quite a few had already perished. But that was not nearly as troubling as the fact that Qrow was doing nothing to help them.

He was merely skirting around the areas where the most chaotic battles were taking place. Even when the screams were silenced, there were no visible signs of distress or regret on his face, just pure determination. If they were already dead, Ozpin could at least assume the boy was staying focused on his goal; but these were not long or even freshly dispatched corpses. They were his fellow students, fighting for their lives, and in need of aid. It was a huntsman's duty to protect those who couldn't defend themselves, and as far as Ozpin could see from where he was sitting, Qrow Branwen was doing a piss poor job.

But, then again, perhaps there was a reason for it. Although he seriously doubted it. If Qrow was anywhere near the skill level of his sister, he could have quickly taken down the Grimm. No, there was some other cause for him to be consciously ignoring the carnage that was taking place around him.

A thought came to Ozpin that made his brow furrow and his lips purse. If the Branwen twins _did_ succeed in passing initiation, which was looking more and more likely by the moment, would they pose a threat to the people around them? Should he report them to the authorities, or let them stay? A wise man had once said to "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." If he kept them at Beacon, he could at least keep an eye on them.

It was a matter that bore some serious thought, and he only had until the end of the day to decide on his move.

/-/

"Ow, ow," Summer groaned as she picked her way through the underbrush. Branches and thorns scraped at her skin and caught on her clothing. Her long, white cloak was especially appetizing to the plants that seemed like they wanted to eat her. Now, she understood why her dad's own cape was cut so short: to avoid getting it snagged in combat. "_Grr, Summer, you should cut your cloak shorter. That way, it won't cause problems in the field,_" she growled, in her best imitation of her father's voice. "Stupid dad. Why does he have to be right about everything?" Of course, she should've expected this to happen: a long cape attached to a not-so-tall person, in the forest? Yeah, she was asking for it.

Despite the inconvenient nature of the garb, though, it had proved useful. It served as a super-comfy blanket the night before. Which was good, considering she had forgotten one and the floor was freezing. It was also an effective means of hiding her zombie-like appearance after going without a shower or any sort of grooming. But the most beneficial aspect of the cloak came when the headmaster literally _threw_ her head-first into the Emerald forest! Apparently, due to her small frame, Summer was incredibly aerodynamic and could fly through the air much faster and higher than expected. While this put her closer to the temple when she landed, it also meant that she had to fall much further than everyone else. Thankfully, though, the white cape proved that it could function as a sort of parachute, slowing her fall ever so slightly.

So, there she was, trudging along, northward, picking leaves, twigs, and all manner of unwanted woodland substances out of her clothing.

She hiked in silence for about ten minutes. It struck her as odd that she'd encountered no one else; there weren't even any Grimm coming out to attack her. There were visible signs of Grimm in the area: trees had large chunks of bark missing, massive tracks dug into the earth, even the occasional set of animal bones left to dry out in the open. However, there were no monsters to speak of anywhere. What was it that her dad had said about this kind of scenario?

_"Chances are that any Grimm in the area are busy with somebody else."_ Problem was, that meant that other people were probably in trouble. A good-natured person would try to find and help them. However, a good huntress would use the lack of Grimm to its fullest extent and slip through undetected. What was she, though? Could she stand by and let someone else take the brunt of the enemy for her?

A sudden rustle in the brush made her jump. Barely even thinking, Summer dove into a nearby ditch, desperate to avoid being spotted by whatever was coming through. When she was sure she wouldn't be seen, she peeked out of the hole. Sliver eyes scanned her surroundings, looking for any kind of threat. She was on the edge of a rather large clearing; no trees grew in an area that was about fifty meters across. The disturbance in the bushes continued until another student: a rather scruffy-looking young man with dark hair, strolled nonchalantly out of the woods.

Judging by the way he kept glancing around him, he was either looking for something, or very paranoid. Although, if that were the case, he probably wouldn't have wandered out into the open, completely ignoring huntsman rule number one: stealth. More likely, he was looking for someone; a friend who he wanted to partner up with. Summer watched silently as he padded over to a large, moss-covered rock and took a seat. Every few seconds, he would once more scan his surroundings, looking directly at the small patch of shrubbery where she was hiding once or twice. He didn't act all that tired; so then, why was he taking a break? Did he not realize that initiation was a race as well as a test of skill? Clearly not, because he just sat there and fiddled with a patch of dried moss on the boulder.

Summer stared in confusion at the boy who she initially considered approaching. He was the first person she'd come across, so, naturally, she thought he would make a decent partner. However, after watching him for several minutes now, she felt differently. If he was dumb enough to just plop down out in the open and twiddle his thumbs, he clearly wasn't cut out to be a huntsman. She made to leave, crawling back through the bushes on her stomach. Summer expected she could probably find someone more suited to their line of work. The initiation had only just begun not ten minutes before, so he couldn't have been tired. Maybe he was waiting on somebody else to catch up to him. If so, he would have made a lousy teammate anyway for abandoning his partner.

The scraggly young man was also apparently lacking in terms of spatial awareness and reflexes, as he didn't even try to move away when the boulder he was sat on began to shift upwards. The earth split and rumbled as massive limbs sprung forth from below. Enormous pincers snapped at the air. Most harrowing of all, up from behind rose a giant, deadly, poisoned stinger-tipped tail. Summer stared, wholly dumbfounded and shocked at the spectacle unfolding before her.

There, not twenty meters ahead of her, a guy she had been about to abandon to sort out his own fate, was stood shakily atop the head of the largest Deathstalker she'd ever seen.

The boy, however, seemed to be less impressed by the whole ordeal. In fact, he looked somewhat annoyed by the fact that he was perched precariously on top of an old and no-doubt angry giant freaking bug. His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. Summer also thought she heard him groan out something that sounded like "fuck my life," before the creature unleashed a blood-curdling screech.

The Deathstalker's pincers howled through the air as it took two terrifying swipes at the boy after he jumped to the ground. Both strikes just barely missed their target by a hair's breadth, as he backstepped and rolled out of the way of them in rapid succession. Before the scorpion could strike again, he reached around and drew a massive broadsword from his back and sprinted straight back towards the Deathstalker's face. He dove forward over yet another slash, landing mere inches from the beast's mandibles.

A single strike from his weapon skipped off the plates on its face, which served to only annoy the Deathstalker further. Seeing that the straightforward approach would not work, he bounded back, narrowly avoiding the giant's pincers again. With speed and agility Summer hadn't thought he possessed, he then sprinted around the side, Landing a couple of insufficient cuts across the scuttling legs. It screamed in anger, clumsily turning around to follow him. As a general rule, Deathstalkers were regarded as fearsome predators due to their speed and durability. Even among the most experienced hunters, people tended to avoid them when they could. This one, however, appeared to have atrophied a bit during its time under the clearing. Its movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. Not what you would expect from such a deadly creature.

Before it had turned fully around, the boy leaped up onto its back and began slashing at its legs. Bone splintered, and acid blood flew as the massive blade impacted again and again. The creature thrashed and screeched, trying desperately to fling him off or grab him.

Unfettered by the violent jerks, he continued hacking away at the hide. If he couldn't hurt the Deathstalker because of the bone armor, it looked as though he would just pound it until he could.

Shards of bone flew through the air. The man was slowly but surely breaking through. With a violent cry, he raised his sword up above his head and plunged it deep into the Grimm's back. A spray of black blood and a pained scream told Summer that he had made it through. The Deathstalker started flinging itself back and forth again, attempting to throw him off. But he held on; no amount of wild shaking caused his grip on the blade to fail. He held on tight for a good few seconds - quite a long time in terms of combat.

Eventually, the Grimm appeared to tire. That, or it just realized that he wasn't going to be shaken off. As such, it tried a different tactic; one that Summer saw, clear as day, but that the boy had no idea of. In a desperate final attack, the Deathstalker reared back its deadly tail, ready to impale him from behind. The air around it shrieked as the golden stinger shot towards him.

There was no time to warn him! It was going to hit before he could even turn around.

Whatever she had thought about him previously, Summer couldn't just let him die while she watched. No amount of rational thinking could justify that. So, within milliseconds, a storm of white rose petals flew through the air, and she was suddenly colliding with the massive appendage, midair. She let loose a fierce yell and slammed her shortsword into it over and over. Hot, stinging, liquid gushed over her hands as the scorpion screamed and swung her to and fro. Summer stabbed and stabbed until the tail's end was nothing more than an oozing pulp beneath her.

Her new friend hadn't squandered her intervention, either. Steadying his stance on the thorax, he pulled the trigger on his weapon. The thundering blast of dual shotguns echoed throughout the forest. Bone, blood, and chunks of gods-know-what sprayed out over them. Judging by the wild thrashing, the Deathstalker clearly wasn't enjoying the whole affair.

However, it was too busy pondering the strange, new sensation of fresh air on its brain to complain.

With one final swing, the tail plopped Summer on the ground with a dull _thud._ The foul odor of the dissipating Grimm stung at her nostrils as the thick, black smoke filled the air around them. Pinching her nose shut and waving a hand in front of her, she glanced around to try and locate her new acquaintance. Only once the fog had nearly completely dissipated was she able to just make out the outline of his figure. Just like her, he was coughing, and hunched over, hands on his knees.

This was the first time Summer had gotten a good look at him, and he didn't appear to be as clueless as she had initially thought. His jet-black hair was swept back, though some still fell over his forehead into his eyes. His features were hard and solemn; yet, there was a lingering hint of sass in the way his lips curled. Though he was currently hacking up his lungs, he wasn't out of breath either, which spoke of good physical conditioning. So far, he had proved her wrong.

"Well," she said chipperly, after finishing dusting herself off. "that was fun."

Only when he glanced up at her, did she notice his eyes. The color of blood, they were cold and piercing. They roamed over her like a hawk sizing up its prey. Something in those crimson orbs caused a chill to run up Summer's spine. An aura of mistrust and hostility flowed out from his gave and threatened to strangle her.

She gulped audibly.

And, all of a sudden, the feeling was gone. The look in his eyes replaced by one that was warmer and friendlier. "Yeah," he half-coughed half-laughed. "Yeah, it was. Thanks for the save. Probably wouldn't've come out so great if you hadn't come along."

"Oh, it was nothing," she giggled, immediately cursing herself for it.

He didn't seem to notice or care, though; and once he regained his posture, he stepped over the last of the decaying Deathstalker goop and pulled his sword out of the ground. It was painted in blood, gore, bone chunks, but a quick swipe through the air freed it from most of the mess that clung to the blade.

Summer rocked on the balls of her feet. "So... I guess we're partners?"

He shrugged. "Guess so, eye contact and all that."

She felt an awkward silence envelop them as they stared blankly at each other. Summer nervously twisted her white cape between her fingers while he just shifted from one foot to the other.

"I'm uh... I'm Summer," she stammered awkwardly, only to receive no reply.

Damn it! What advice had dad given her that she could use in this situation? What would he do? Probably just punch the boy's lights out. He'd drilled into her head since before she could even talk, that if a guy ever made her uncomfortable, to deliver a swift and efficient kick to the groin. However, Summer didn't think that applied to the awkward flavor of nervous. So, what did she do? He sure as hell wasn't taking the initiative in the conversation.

"Umm... d'you think we should go? I mean, there can't be that many artifacts at the temple, right?"

The weird man stared at her, taking a moment to ponder her words. Or that's what she thought, at least. In actuality, he had just spaced out. "Uh, excuse me?"

His eyes suddenly refocused on her, and he jumped slightly. "Hmm? Oh yeah, sure."

Summer's brow furrowed. "Did you even hear a word I said?"

"Nope," he stated plainly. "Hey, we should get moving. We don't wanna get to the temple, and all the relics have been taken."

Her jaw dropped as he turned and started walking away. What?! She'd just said...

"Name's Qrow, by the way."

Okay, as far as first impressions went, this guy was making a pretty bad one on her.

Summer went to tell him off but was interrupted by a dramatic rustling and slashing sound coming from behind them. It grew closer and closer until a figure emerged from the forest.

"Oh, for the love of... What now?" Summer growled.

Having caught Qrow's attention, he glanced over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

A long, red blade sliced through the last of the brush in its wielder's path, before sliding into an oddly designed scabbard. Summer's eyes widened, her expression swiftly changing to a scowl of epic proportions as she saw just who had stumbled on her and Qrow. It was the girl from the headmaster's address. The one who had told her to screw off, although she hadn't exactly said "screw." Red eyes, dark hair, pale skin, and a look of pure disinterest adorning her face. It was as if nothing had changed since yesterday. Come to think of it, it was also a little unnerving how similar she looked to Qrow.

"Oh, there you are," Summer's partner said nonchalantly. "Took you long enough."

"I got a little... sidetracked," the girl replied, glancing back over her shoulder. Her blood-red orbs roamed over to Summer. "Seems as though you did, too." Her gaze held that same air of chill that Qrow's had at first; except that hers seemed permanent. As if she was staring straight through to her soul and judging her from the inside out. "I assume this is your new partner?"

"Yeah. Summer's her name."

How did Qrow and this mean woman know each other? She regarded him with a surprising sense of familiarity. Were they friends? Fellow students from another school? Lovers?

"Hmph," she shrugged, turning away from Summer. "Well, I suppose you could do worse, but we'll have to wait and see."

"Um, excuse me," Summer said sharply. "I'm standing right here; and what exactly do you mean by that?" Was she implying that she wasn't good enough? Who the hell was she to judge?

Without even looking back, she waved, "I'm not going to make any assumptions - good or bad - until I've seen you fight. If Qrow wants a partner who can play the damsel in distress, however, that's his choice."

Blood rushed to Summer cheeks and her fists clenched. Grabbing the girl by her shoulder and spinning her around, she jabbed a finger into her chest. "Hey! If not for me, that Deathstalker would've made sweet love to him with the pointy end of its tail!" She gestured to Qrow violently, who shrugged and nodded nonchalantly in response.

Seeing this, the red-eyed bitch sighed and looked Summer in the face. "Alright then, in that case," displaying a strength that most certainly did not match her frame, she grabbed the hand that Summer still had on her shoulder and _moved _her away. She couldn't even resist. The might that hid beneath her slender figure was honestly terrifying. "In that case, you probably aren't worthless. Although I prefer to make my own judgments."

With that, she turned on her heel and went to lean up against a nearby tree.

"Summer, Raven," Qrow's raspy voice came from behind her. "The _other_ product of my mother's ovaries."

Summer's brow shot up. "She's your _sister_?!"

"Mmmhmm. I've had the utterly shit luck of being attached to that thing for seventeen years."

Her jaw dropped. Suddenly she felt a whole lot more worried that Qrow was her partner for the next four years. If that was his twin sister... holy gods above... She hoped they didn't share much in the way of personality. Otherwise, she might be expelled soon after school started. She had a feeling that Beacon frowned on students murdering one another.

"She's not always like that, is she?"

"Yep," Qrow deadpanned.

"But she doesn't even know m-"

"Doesn't matter. Raven hates everyone."

Well, in that case, Summer was _definitely _getting expelled.

As if this day couldn't get any worse, she heard yet more commotion coming from the bushes behind her. Gods, Raven's partner; and whoever was with her was probably just as insufferable as her. Summer's only hope was that they didn't all get put on the same team. If they did, Vale was gonna be getting a new mass-killer.

"Summer?" A familiar, yet not unpleasant voice called.

"Tai?" she looked to see the blond boy picking some brush out from his hair. Her eyes lit up, and she let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank god! I'm not gonna become a serial killer!"

He looked at her with a mix of amusement and concern. "Um..."

The slap that sounded as Summer palm impacted with her head was stupidly loud. Legends say that it was heard all around Remnant. "I said that last part out loud, didn't I?"

Taiyang chuckled. "Yep."

She groaned.

"I'm guessing you had the pleasure of meeting Raven?" At her muffled conformation, he laughed again. "Yeah, its gonna be interesting getting along with her as my partner."

"You'll be in my prayers."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we should probably get going. We still gotta get those relics."

She didn't answer but instead walked along with him to the twins.

"Hey, maybe we'll get put on a team together?"

Summer pondered that for a moment. It would be nice to be on a team with her first friend. Then again, he was a package deal with her first enemy.

"No offense, Tai," she said. "But I hope not."

* * *

**A/N: I realize I've made Ozpin a little on the darker side of morally grey here. I just want to clarify that this was done intentionally. The writers of RWBY are always trying to make Ozpin seem like this enigmatic demigod who does terrible things for good reasons or vice-versa. However, we never actually _see_ him doing anything wrong other than lying to the cast; and, in a way, he wasn't even lying. He was just not telling them things that they didn't need to know at the time.**

**In this story, I'm going to try and add character flaws to the people I think are lacking in them. Hence Ozpin knowingly sending children into a forest infested with Grimm where they could die if they aren't up to the challenges of being a real huntsman - I mean, he literally says in The First Step that if the students don't kill everything in their path, "they will die." Also, Qrow being a cold-hearted bastard and letting other people die when he could have saved them. He's a bandit, remember?**

**Also, HOORAY! The dreaded Initiation Arc is over. Now we can move on to the meat n' potatoes of this fic. However, updates will probably be on the slower side from here on out. Sorry but, such is the life of a family man.**

**Side note: I'm planning on starting a spin-off series of this fic called "Inappropriate Stories." They will simply be random, semi-connected one-shots that focus on Team STRQ's time at Beacon. Most will be canon to Stark Contrast unless explicitly stated otherwise. I will also be accepting ideas for chapters, so if you have an entertaining debacle to put our heroes through, feel free to drop me a PM.**


	5. Chapter 4 - Non-political Intrigue

**A/N: Hey all! Hope you're enjoying the fic, so far. ****Things have been pretty crazy on my end lately. I've barely had any time to sit down and write at all.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 4.**

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**Chapter 4 - Non-political Intrigue**

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"Qrow Branwen, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, and Summer Rose," Ozpin recited the names from the list as the initiates' faces came up on the screen behind him. When all four of them were stood in a line on the stage, he continued, "The four of you chose the Black Knight piece. Henceforth, you shall live, fight, bleed, and even die alongside one another as Team Stark!"

The crowd, mostly consisting of students of Beacon and the parents of those who'd passed entrance exams, applauded. More out of respect than any real admiration. While it was to be acknowledged that these young people had survived the grueling trek through the forest, it wasn't anything they hadn't seen before.

"Every group needs a leader, and yours is no different," he said, turning to face them. He was honestly curious to examine the reaction to his pick. "As such, I name Summer Rose as the head of Team STRQ."

Miss Rose's expression was to be expected. If life were a child's cartoon, her chin would have been scraping the floor and her eyes launching three feet out of her skull. Pure disbelief was what Ozpin saw in those silver orbs. Disbelief and a small twinge of reluctance. Whether it was due to her being announced as the leader, or put on a team with young Miss Branwen, he did not know. More than likely, a combination of both.

Mr. Xiao Long had a similar look of shock about him, although he seemed a bit more enthused by the decision. This was also predictable. Summer and Taiyang had made each other's acquaintances the previous day and had hit it off well. It was no surprise he was happy to be put with a friend.

The Branwen twins, however, possessed a particular air of ambivalence. Qrow looked as though he could care less that his partner was granted the position. Raven seemed much the same but had a little bit of annoyance in her eyes.

It wasn't surprising. After all, the two had a bit of a rough introduction in the forest. Raven most likely considered her to be underqualified and not worth it. Ozpin hoped that she would be proven wrong. Choosing who would lead the teams was always a gamble. Sometimes, things would work out, and the four would grow up to be skilled and capable huntsmen.

With any luck, Team STRQ would be such a case. If not, well... it was going to be a long four years.

The rest of the induction ceremony flew by, as it usually did, and Ozpin soon found himself seated at his desk. The sun was just beginning to set over the horizon, which flooded his office at the top of Beacon's tower with a foreboding red light. The giant cogs of the clock ticked on by as the minutes brought an end to the day.

The warm cup of coffee should have been soothing to the ancient man's nerves. Instead, he could not stop thinking about the two of them. The Branwens. They showed up, without warning, clearly falsified transcripts in hand, and breezed through the initiation test. They were obviously qualified to attend his school; so he'd let them. He, Professor Ozpin, and no one else had chosen to give them access to his training and facilities because they showed an incredible degree of promise.

They also intrigued him.

Upon seeing their somewhat infamous surnames, Ozpin had contacted Sanctum Academy, as that was where their documents had shown they'd come from. The school had no record of them attending. Even the Mistralian government showed no citizens by the names of Qrow and Raven Branwen ever existing. They were, for all intents and purposes, entirely fictitious. That was the main reason for his paranoia, but also his interest.

Beacon did not require students to have previously attended any of the combat schools across Remnant. They simply needed to show that they had the skills becoming of a huntsman. After all, not all people that went to school succeeded in their field. In the same vein, some of those that didn't receive a formal education had the potential to go far.

With the level of competence that the twins displayed during the test, there was no doubt in Ozpin's mind, they didn't need transcripts. If anything, they were the kind of talent that he actively looked to recruit. That made the documents so much more baffling. They were so crudely made, barely following the standard format; the Branwen probably had them forged in some basement for less than a hundred lien.

It was honestly rather amusing, and the reason he had decided to call on outside help.

The terminal on his large desk flash to life as the call he placed was picked up.

"Ozpin?" the ashen haired man on the screen greeted.

"Ah, Ashur! Hello, how are you?"

He looked a tad annoyed. "Well, I was actually in the middle of another call."

The headmaster nodded in understanding. His old friend was a family man, after all. "Oh, well, I apologize for the interruption. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

Ashur blinked. "Wha-what the hell does that mean?" he said. "_You_ called _me_, Oz."

Ozpin, feigning ignorance, cocked an eyebrow. "Did I? I suppose I did. My word, old age really does take its toll on the mind." Some would have rebuked a man of his stature and age for joking around with the huntsman, but it was all in good fun. Ashur was a man who could appreciate a jest between friends. "Yes, well, either way, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Shoot."

"Thank you," he said. "I've heard you are in Vale, at this time, correct?" At Ashur's nod, he went on, "I would like you to look into some curious individuals for me. I'm sending their files to you now."

There was a brief moment of silence as the other man looked over what he'd sent. "Are these real?"

"No. I've done extensive research into these two and come up empty-handed." He then explained his findings regarding the Branwens over thirty minutes or so. Ashur simply listened intently and nodded to show he understood. "So, now you see my intrigue, do you have any theories?"

"Okay, based on what you've said, they obviously didn't need the documents to get accepted. So, why forge them in the first place?" That was the question, wasn't it? Although, knowing Ashur, he already had a hypothesis lined up. He had a highly effective intuition when it came to reading people. "I'm thinking they sent in the phony papers to fly under your radar."

Ozpin nodded. A decent theory, if a bit dull. But, as with most ideas, it had holes. "But, in that case, why not change their identities completely?"

"Of that, I have no clue," the graying huntsman conceded. "Tell ya what, you give a few days - a week tops - and I'll see what I can dig up around the city."

That was all Ozpin could ask. If there were any hints to be found in Vale, Ashur would find them, even if he had to _crack a few skulls,_ as he put it.

"And in the meantime, I will continue to keep a close eye on them here. Thank you, old friend."

Ashur gave a half-hearted salute and smirked. "Ten-four. Talk soon, Oz."

With that, the screen darkened once again, and Ozpin was left in silence. Nothing but the surprisingly subtle ticking of the clocktower and his own thoughts to keep him company. Sighing, he took a sip from his coffee, which was now beginning to cool.

"Just who are the two of you, Raven and Qrow Branwen? And what is it you are here for?"

Depending on what Ashur uncovered in his hunt, things were shaping up to be an interesting semester.

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**A/N: It's really short, I know. But I wanted to get _something_ out to you all, and this really wouldn't fit in the next chapter. So, consider this like one of Ocelot's phone calls after the credits in Metal Gear Solid; a brief hint at what's going through the crazy old man's head right now.**


	6. Chapter 5 - The Start of Something

**A/N: Nothing really to say here. Take it away, Michael-I mean, Summer!**

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**Chapter 5 - The Start of... Something**

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"NO, GOD! NO! God, please, no! No! No! NOOOOOOO!" is what Summer wanted to scream at the top of her tiny lungs.

Turns out, she had.

The team placement couldn't have gone worse. Summer could have been put on a team with _anyone, _anyone at all, and it had to be _her_. The red-eyed _b-word_. Her partner's stupid freaking sister. Or, since she had to call her by her given name, _Raven_.

"Nooohohoo..." her voice was muffled as she fell, face-first into her pillow.

"Oh, come on," Taiyang said, focused more on unpacking his bags. "Raven can't be as bad as you're making her out to be."

"Tai's right," Qrow piped up, startling both of them, as he'd looked like he was already asleep on his new bed. Without even opening his eyes or letting the other boy acknowledge his agreement, he continued, "She's way worse than you think."

"Not helping, Qrow," Summer whined.

The subject of their discussion was out at the moment. As such, the three other members of the newly-formed Team STRQ were free to gossip at their leisure. Where she was, not one of them had a clue. Honestly, Summer could care less, so long as she was gone.

"I don't even understand what your problem is with her? She gets along fine with me." Taiyang also didn't seem to understand that wasn't winning him any brownie points. It had also only been a few hours since he'd met her. She probably hadn't shown her true colors to him yet. "Aside from your little... episode in the woods, what happened between you two?"

Summer rolled onto her back and faced Taiyang. "I didn't have anything against her before then," she explained. "Sure, we didn't have the best introductions yesterday, but I thought she was just in a bad mood." Seeing that he was confused, she elaborated, "I tried to say 'hi' before the headmaster's welcoming speech. People were avoiding her, and I thought she might like someone to talk to."

Hearing this, Summer's _amazing_ partner exploded into laughter. He continued on for several moments until he was gasping for breath. Both Summer and Taiyang raised their brow; was it really that funny?

Summer rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I go up and introduce myself, thinking it might start a conversation."

"Hehe, I can see where this is going," Qrow chuckled.

She ignored him. "Her response? Not telling me her name, not saying 'hello.' No, why would it make sense to do that? Raven doesn't even look at me and just tells me to f... _frick_ off."

"Yep, that's my bitch sister, alright. Only, I'm guessing that she didn't say 'frick'?"

Again, his snickers went unheeded. "Then, there was the whole... _thing_ in the forest, and now we're here."

Taiyang just looked at her for a few seconds like he was soaking in all she'd said. He didn't laugh like Qrow or get upset on her behalf, just contemplated. Finally, after what seemed like minutes of silence, he shrugged. "Okay, so you had a rocky start. The only thing you can do is get over it and try again. If Raven doesn't feel the same, well, all I can say is... _frick_ her." His final remark earned Taiyang a chuckle from her as well as Qrow.

What he said, however, was actually helpful. It was the kind of advice that Summer would expect from her father.

Speaking of which...

* * *

_"Took you long enough," _the grizzled huntsman complained through her scroll. _"Was beginnin' to think you'd already grown out of needing me."_

Summer snorted as she sat against a tree outside the dormitory building. "No, dad, I didn't _forget _you. Things have just been a little... crazy today. I have a lot on my mind." That was putting it lightly - or at least, she thought so.

_"Well, my big girl on campus, it just so happens that daddy dearest moonlights as an amateur shrink. Lay it on me, I've got a couple hours to kill."_

Summer sighed and blew a tuft of red-streaked hair out of her face. Where to begin? That her partner was an insufferable prick? That his sister was a bitch who clearly had a massive superiority complex? Or maybe the fact that her only real friend so far was partnered with said bitch and she was stuck on a team with all three of them for the next _four years_?!

_"Whoa, whoa, slow down Short Stack," _her dad cut into her thoughts, holding his hand up before the screen and gesturing for her to calm down. _"That's a lot to unpack. Take a breath and give me one thing at a time."_

"What? What are you talking about? I haven't even said..." she trailed off into a groan. Damn it. "I said all that out loud, didn't I?" Dad didn't say anything; he didn't need to. His silence and knowing smirk confirmed her question.

"Ugh... It's been a long day."

_"I can tell. Just start from the beginning. I'm listening."_

And so she vented all the frustrations the day had placed upon her. True to his nature, her father just provided an ear and the occasional witty interjection. But he never criticized her. He knew now was not the time to stress Summer out, she needed a release.

She told him about her meeting with Taiyang, and how he'd been kind to her the day before. The only person at Beacon that she seemed to have any sort of connection with. The rather curt and offensive first experience with Raven had his brow furrowing. He nodded and told her she made the right call when she'd explained her stealthy run through the Emerald forest, and the initiates she heard and ignored.

_"I wish we could help everyone who needed it, but some people are beyond saving."_

Summer piqued his interest when she began retelling her partnering up with Qrow. She went through the fight against the Deathstalker, however short it was, hoping to garner some praise. She found very little, though. His face lost all expression entirely when she mentioned her teammate's name.

"What?" Summer asked. Very rarely did she see dad's "stone face," even fewer were the times when it meant something good. "What did I say?"

He shook his head. _"Nothing. Don't worry about it."_ Waving a hand dismissively, he said, _"You mentioned this kid had a sister, and that she didn't like you?"_

Okay, this was a little weird. "Y-yeah, she was the one who told me to eff-off during the headmaster's speech." Summer said. "Then we killed the Deathstalker, she came out of the woods and just started talking about me like I wasn't even there. Then, when she finally did acknowledge me, it was to basically tell me I wasn't worth being her brother's partner."

She waited for his response. Maybe some advice on how to deal with Raven; but found none. When he finally spoke, it a simple question.

_"What's her name?"_

/-/

Let it never be said that Ashur Rose didn't love his daughter. In fact, if anything, he would say he loved her too much. He loved her enough to let her go off and study at Beacon, a dangerous school where an old man taught children to brutally slay monsters. Even though she would be put in mortal danger nigh on every day, Ashur had granted Summer's wish and trained her to become a huntress. She didn't know the pure cruelty of the world she was born into, but he was doing his best to shield her and prepare her for it every day.

Juggling all that _and_ working as a huntsman full time _and_ doing whatever Ozpin needed him for... well, it was taxing, to say the least. He was by no means a young man, having had Summer very late into his life, and fatherhood was doing nothing to prolong his life. Since she was born, the girl had been gradually turning his already graying hair white. Not a minute went by in which he didn't agonize over her safety.

And finding out that she had been placed on a team with two people who had made Oz's "_Oh, Shit _List" had just about given him a heart attack.

It had also given him a little more motivation to find just who the Branwens were and what they were doing at Beacon. Which was why he was currently stood out in front of a suspicious bar located in a shady part of downtown Vale. He checked the watch on his wrist. It was eight in the evening, still early by night people's standards. Hopefully, early enough that there wouldn't be very many patrons inside to see him. Those that entered the establishment known as "the Castle" tended to be put on some form of federal watchlist or other.

Two human planets stood on each side of the red-painted door. The cheap black suits they wore strained against the mounds of muscle that covered them. If Ashur was honest, and if he didn't know any better, he probably would've been intimidated. But he'd been around long enough and been in more fights than most huntsmen his age to know that brawn didn't guarantee victory.

The one on the right, whom he'd designated as Meatshield #1, held out an enormous hand as Ashur approach the entryway. "Afraid we're gonna need to search you before you can go inside, sir." Standing a head taller than himself, the guard donned pitch-black sunglasses, despite the sun having already set. "Can't let a guy in if he's armed to the teeth."

If he'd really wanted to, Ashur was reasonably confident he could have made it past them without much effort. But he wasn't here to cause trouble. He needed information, and it was hard to interrogate corpses. "No problem," he said with feigned friendliness. As Meatshield #2 patted him down in search of weapons that he'd left behind for this very reason, he went on. "Actually, I'm glad to see you fellas take security so seriously. Can't say I'd be too happy if some lunatic pulled a gun while I'm enjoying a few rounds."

Once the groping was done, #2 nodded to #1 and returned to his post on the left. "Everything seems to be in order. You can head on inside. Enjoy your evening, sir."

As soon as he stepped down the entryway stairs, his senses were nearly overwhelmed. Smoke and the stink of booze - cheap and elegant alike - made the air thick and unpleasant to breathe. The light, what little there was, was an intense red and bathed everything in a bloody hue. A jazz band played off in the back corner, the heavy bass tones resonating through the room.

Scattered around were several red leather couches, occupied mostly by fat, balding men with cigars and glasses of liquor. They laughed obnoxiously back and forth at one another and squeezed the women the red dresses that seemed to be stuck to each of their arms. Whoever ran this place definitely knew what their favorite color was, and what kind of image they wanted to cultivate.

"What can I get you, sir?" asked a slender bartender in a crimson vest as he sat down at the bar.

Ashur wasn't really a drinking man, but he knew what he needed tonight. "Something strong enough to erase a memory," he said, precisely laying one hundred lien on the bar. The money itself was enough to buy a bottle of bottom-shelf whiskey; however, that wasn't what he'd ordered.

The friendly smile that the tender wore instantly shifted. With a nod, he replied, "Wait here, please." He then disappeared behind a curtain into a back room. When he returned, about a minute and a half later, he was flanked by two more Meatshields. "Follow me, sir," he said as the goons each took their places beside Ashur.

Understanding this was all part of the process, the huntsman nodded. He was led down a dark corridor to another door guarded by yet another bodybuilder. "Now," the bartender explained, "You are about to meet the King. If you want to walk out of here on your own, you'll do exactly as I say. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Once you're inside, you will speak only when spoken to. You will address the King as such, and you will keep your hands where they can be seen at all times." Fairly standard ground rules for when one was meeting with a member of the criminal underworld, particularly one that ran a speakeasy of sorts. The man rattled off a few more terms, and, if only to make him happy, Ashur made use of the age-old art of smiling and nodding.

When the door to King's office was finally opened, his shoulders were gripped by #3 and #4, and he was guided into a chair in front of an immaculate wooden desk. Compared to the main area outside, the office was much more palatable in terms of decor. Paintings of beautiful landscapes decorated the walls, along with an expensive-looking liquor cabinet. There were no windows to speak of, and instead, all the light came from the massive stone fireplace along the back wall.

On the other side of the desk was a black leather chair, over the back of which, the top of the head of the man he'd come to see was visible.

"So," came a voice, grumbling from the chair. "You want to disappear, do you?"

Following the instructions he'd been given, Ashur answered, "I was told that you could do that."

"Well, you see that all depends," The seat spun around, revealing the man known around the streets of Vale as "King." Out of all the men he'd seen since entering the Castle, _he_ was the only one who would give Ashur a hard time in a fight. Even sat down and leaned back in his chair as he was, the mob boss still struck an imposing figure. Likely as tall as all his goons, he carried just as much muscle and even more scars. His knuckles were calloused and marked, indicating they'ed been used quite a bit over King's life. Ashur knew he would have been able to take him, but it wouldn't have been easy. Besides that, he wasn't here to start a melee. "Depends on how much you're willing to shell out, and how well you want to disappear."

Ashur nodded right along, not wanting to antagonize the brute just yet. "Let's say I wanted to acquire some false documentation that would get me access to a school... Beacon, perhaps?"

King chuckled quietly, which by itself sounded like it could have shaken the foundations of the building. "Well, yes, I can certainly do that, but if you don't mind my saying, Mister... umm."

"Dustin."

"Mister Dustin..." he said the fake moniker slowly like he was tasting it. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look a little old to be applying to a huntsman academy."

Ashur smirked. "You got me," he held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm actually here on behalf of someone else. He heard you hooked some of his friends up with fake transcripts, and was hoping to get in next time around."

King nodded. "Ah, well, in that case, I'm afraid I can't help you. See, I only do business face to face. Never trust a proxy."

"I understand. Although, maybe you could meet me halfway? A ballpark estimate of what a couple transcripts go for?"

The boss shook his massive head. "As I said, I can't help you if I don't know who I'm dealing with. Now, if that was all, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. I've got quite a few important meetings ahead of me tonight, Mister Dustin. Have a nice night." With a curt wave of his ringed hand, he spun his throne back around to face the fireplace.

Shit. This wasn't what he was hoping for. But with how quickly King shut down the meeting as soon as he mentioned Beacon and transcripts, there was likely something there. He just needed to ask a little friendlier.

"Qrow and Raven Branwen!" The second the words left his mouth, the air around him cooled, and dead silence enveloped the room. This wasn't how Ashur wanted things to go down either. However, no plan survived the first contact.

King turned to face him, all levity drained from his eyes. "What was that?"

"The Branwen twins, I know you got them false documents. They used them to get into Beacon."

"And how do you know this? You work for the school?"

Ashur gave an internal sigh of relief but retained a face of stone outside. _Thank the gods. _He'd gotten him talking again. King was his only solid lead to the twins so far, he couldn't afford to fuck this up. "Not directly. Let's just say their arrival raised some flags." King raised an eyebrow. "Beacon runs background checks on all its applicants. When Raven and Qrow's came up, it was obvious they were forged," Ashur clarified.

The mountain of a man then nodded and stood up. Walking over to the cabinet, he retrieved two whiskey tumblers and a crystal decanter of bourbon. "I'm not in the habit of discussing my clients' business with strangers, Mister Dustin," he said as he poured the amber liquid. "Especially not for free."

Taking the glass offered to him, Ashur said, "I'm willing to pay. So long as you can tell what I want to know."

"Well, if you're offering to lighten your purse a little in exchange for information... I don't see any problem with that. Information is a commodity that I do deal in from time to time."

He watched as King sat back down and sipped his drink. Neither one said anything for a few minutes. Ashur had a feeling that he was being sized up. Like they were trying to see if he was worth dealing with.

"Fine," King finally said with a shrug. "I'll give the info I have on the brats. It won't come cheap, though. You're asking me to betray a client, after all."

Ashur's silver eyes narrowed. "How much?"

A sinister grin peeled at the King's lips. "Twenty thousand."

The graying huntsman choked on his bourbon. "Twenty thousand lien?! For intel on two-"

"Each." King finished.

_Forty?!_ Forty thousand lien for some phony records and background info. _Motherfucker, he must really value his work. _"You're shitting me, right? Two bandit kids can't be worth that much."

King shook his head and sipped from his glass. "As I said, I'm giving up a customer. This might cause me to lose business in the future if word gets out. I've got to make a profit here."

_Yeah, wouldn't that be a shame? Some child molester won't come to you to help get rid of his van._ "I can't do forty," Ashur proclaimed honestly. While he did have a sizable nest egg set aside for Oz's assignments, he wasn't rolling in dough. "Thirty is the highest I'll be able to go."

The mod boss closed his eyes and pondered his offer a moment. He probably would haggle, people like him usually did. However, Ashur was honest when he said thirty was all he had. If he wanted anything more than that, he would most likely need to get what he wanted the hard way.

Much to his surprise, King placed his tumbler on a coaster and extended a large hand across the desk. "Thirty it is, then."

Ashur blinked. It appeared like he wouldn't need to get his hands dirty after all. That was a refreshing change of pace. "A-alright, then." The man's grip was stronger than his size suggested - and that was saying something.

King then reached down into a drawer and pulled out a manila file folder. Sliding it across the table, he said, "It's honestly surprising the little shits got into the academy at all."

"Why's that?"

"Well, first off, if you've met them, they aren't exactly good at hiding who they are. They also didn't even change their names. Just wanted their transcripts to say they attended a prep school in Mistral."

He had wondered about that. If they'd wanted to stay hidden, why not go with whole new identities? Unless they were running from the actual Branwen tribe and were trying to lead different lives. In that case, why fake the papers at all? According to Ozpin, they could have passed initiation without documents. "Any idea why?" he asked as he took the folder and slid it into his pack.

"My guess is that they wanted to fly under the radar." A fair assumption. The higher-ups _did_ tend to look more closely at those skilled enough to apply to Beacon without records. With a sneer, King added, "Obviously, that didn't happen."

"Do you have anything on them _before_ they arrived in Vale?" That was, after all, the very core of what Ozpin had assigned him to find out.

King groaned. "Much to my chagrin, I do. An associate of mine in Mistral acted as a broker between the leader of the Branwen tribe and myself. She smuggled the twins into the city, and it was up to me to give them new documents."

_Bingo! So the bandits _are _involved in some way._ But what use would they have in sending two of their kids halfway across Remnant, to a combat school?

"After that, though, it was out of my hands. I gave them the papers and sent them on their way. That, along with the files I just gave you, is all I've got on the kids." Meaning, he wasn't going to be discussing the matter further.

"Fair enough," Ashur nodded as he stood. "You've been a great help, sir, thank you."

King waved off the thanks with his hand. "So long as you pay," he said. "The bartender will tell you where you can leave the money on your way out. It all better be there... for your sake."

Ashur nodded. As much as he hated to admit it, it would be a mistake to piss off a powerful information broker/mob boss.

"Oh, one more thing," King called as he was stepping out the door. "Who told you how to find me? I'd like to have a word with him, if at all possible."

Silence the rat, more like. "You don't have to worry," Ashur said plainly. "I already handled it." It wouldn't do for his identity to be spread around the criminal underworld of Vale. Whatever the public chose to think about huntsmen, in his line of work, one couldn't afford the luxury of a strong moral compass. Thus, he'd been forced to plug the leak in King's operation for him.

_Here's hoping all this trouble and money was worth it,_ Oz.

* * *

**A/N: So... a little more focus on Ashur's work, this chapter. Don't worry, we'll get back on track with Team STRQ next time. We're starting to get into it now. Pieces are being moved into place, things are happening behind the scenes. And we're creeping ever closer to the dreaded first day of classes.**

**Hope you enyoyed.**


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